Girl Trouble
by Caz Dowse
Summary: Our poor boys...Stan's been dumped by his girl, Kyle's got an interesting new girl, Cartman would like any girl and Kenny, um, is a girl. Read on and all will be explained! Multi chaptered fic. Epilogue now up!
1. Chapter 1

**Girl Trouble**

**This fic has been in my head for a while, but I haven't gotten around to writing it till now (thank you Revenge Au Trois!), and its still kind of a work in progress, so please don't slate it too much!**

**I don't any of South Park, at all.**

**Chapter 1**

The party was hot, the music was pumping, but Stan Marsh was all alone. He sighed, looking at the door, and began to walk towards it, but a thought stopped him in his tracks.

_No._

Why should he leave? He could enjoy himself alone. He didn't need _her_ to be able to have fun.

He turned and picked his way back through the house. It was crowded, and there were quite a few people that Stan didn't know. Clyde probably hadn't anticipated just how many people would actually turn up when he organised this party. It was always the same, though: someone would decide to throw a party and invite a "select" few people. Those people would tell their friends, who would then tell theirfriends, and before you knew it, your house was full of teenagers from South Park, and most of North and Middle Park as well. A houseful of drunk teenagers and only one toilet was always a recipe for disaster, as Stan knew all too well.

Stan made his way into the kitchen to get a drink, stepping carefully over a boy who was slumped in the doorway. Clyde Donovan sat at the kitchen table, his head resting on his crossed arms. He was surrounded by cups and bottles of varying amounts of beers and spirits. Stan nudged him as he grabbed an empty cup.

"Clyde?"

"Ngghrr."

He chuckled as he poured himself a beer. Clyde was going to have some serious regrets in the morning, like ever agreeing to have this party in the first place.

He left Clyde to his stupor and wandered back into the hallway, looking for someone – anyone – that he knew. Just as he was starting to despair of finding anyone from South Park, two of his friends, Kenny McCormick and Eric Cartman, came out of the dining room, talking animatedly. They caught sight of the lonely looking Stan and made their way over to him, grinning.

"Where is she, then?" Cartman asked, looking around.

"Who?"

"That ho you call your girlfriend."

"Wendy isn't here," Stan said, just as someone turned the music up to earthquake levels.

"What?!" Cartman shouted.

"I said: Wendy isn't here!" Stan shouted back.

"And she let you come on your own?" Cartman asked incredulously.

"We do do things separately, y'know!"

"Stan, she doesn't even let you go to the bathroom on your own!"

"What did you guys fall out about this time?" Kenny asked in a weary voice. He didn't really know why he ever bothered asking about Stan and Wendy's arguments. They were nearly always about pointless, banal things that only Stan and Wendy would fight about, such as Stan's manky old trainers, or Stan not wearing the new shirt Wendy had bought him. Despite all this, Kenny had decided it was better to feign interest, rather than show none at all.

"Wendy wanted to stay in and watch a DVD tonight," Stan replied. "She said she wanted us to have some proper 'couple time'."

Cartman snorted.

"We had a fight, and in the end I said fine, I'll come on my own!" Stan said animatedly. "And you know what, I don't regret it at all, I'm having a great time. Screw Wendy." He nodded along as Lady GaGa shook the house to its foundations, while Kenny and Cartman smiled knowingly at each other, both starting a slow countdown in their heads.

"Do you think I should call her?" Stan blurted out suddenly, just as Cartman and Kenny had both reached 7.

"No way man. Let her apologise first for once!" Kenny said.

"Yeah, let the bitch come to you!" Cartman added helpfully.

They sipped their drinks in silence for a while.

"So, what's going on with Kyle?" Cartman asked casually.

The other two stared at him, non-plussed. "What about Kyle?" Stan asked.

"Have you seen him in there with that Goth mutt?" Cartman asked, nodding toward the lounge. "What's that about?"

Stan popped his head round the lounge doorway and soon spied his red headed best friend sitting on the sofa with the Goth "mutt" Henrietta. They were deep in conversation, their heads bent so close together they were almost touching. They were completely oblivious to everything, including a couple sitting next to them making out as though it was their last day on earth.

"So are they going out or what?" Cartman asked when Stan popped his head back. "Cause that would be so incredibly lame."

"How the hell should I know?" Stan asked. "They're just sitting there talking."

"So they might be dating?"

"I don't know!" Stan said, exasperated. "Why don't you go and ask if you're so interested!"

"Why would I wanna do that?" Cartman said, mortified. "I don't even fucking care!" He exhaled deeply. "What do you think, Kenny?"

Kenny didn't answer; instead he smiled at something that had clearly caught his attention. Stan followed his eyeline and saw a couple of cute blonde girls smiling back.

"Stand back guys," Kenny said with a wicked grin. "Kenny's goin' to work!"

"I'll back you up, bud!" Cartman said breathlessly, his eyes almost out on stalks at the sight of the two scantily dressed girls.

"Dude, what's with you?" Stan asked. "You've been hitting on every girl in South Park lately."

"Are you saying I'm desperate?" Cartman asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Dude, there's desperate, then there's you!" Kenny remarked caustically.

"What's wrong with wanting some fucking pussy?" Cartman shouted, just as the music was turned down to a more acceptable level.

Kings Of Leon's _Sex On Fire _was the only sound as everyone within hearing range stopped what they were doing to stare at Cartman. The two girls stared at the hapless Kenny and Cartman and stormed off.

"Jesus Christ Cartman, you're like kryptonite!" Kenny said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"It's not my fault!" Cartman said defensively. "Bitches!"

Stan chuckled. "I'm gonna get another drink. You guys want one?"

"I will, since it looks like I'm going home alone tonight!" Kenny said, glaring at Cartman.

"Oh whatever, Kenny!" Cartman said, rolling his eyes. "This party sucks anyway. Screw you guys, I am going home!"

He shoved past them and made his way to the front door, kicking out at anyone who was unfortunate enough to block his path. He stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

"Dumbass!" Stan said. He turned back to Kenny. "Do you want another beer?"

"Make it a whisky and I promise not to mention girls for the rest of the night!" Kenny said.

"You're on!"

Stan moved back through the crowded hallway, trying to excuse himself past people as politely as he could. When that failed, he used the Cartman method and took a few kicks at some nicely positioned backsides.

He had almost reached the kitchen when a girl stumbled out and fell into his arms, spilling her drink all over his brand new shirt. She gazed up at him with big, unfocused brown eyes.

"Hi!" she said, giggling.

She had long straggly blonde hair and wore a tiny black halterneck dress, which was in serious danger of spilling _its_ contents. Stan smiled uneasily at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I am now!" the girl replied, laying her head on his chest. She slipped her arms more comfortably around his waist.

Stan removed her arms and grabbed onto her as she swayed dangerously. She stared at him, bemused.

"I don't feel ver' well," she said uncertainly.

Stan sighed. "Okay, come on. Lets find you someplace to sit down."

He took her by the shoulders and guided her back through the crowded hallway, ignoring Kenny's enquiring look. They went through the dining room and out into the back garden, where there were a couple of lawnchairs and an overturned table. Stan sat the girl in one of the chairs and took the other. He breathed in the cool Colorado air and listened to the music throbbing against the wall of the house.

"Feeling better?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah, thanks," she replied, smiling at him in a drunk way that she obviously thought was seductive.

Stan began to feel uneasy again. "Okay then," he said, standing up. "I'd better, y'know, get back to my friend."

"No wait, don't go!" the girl cried, stumbling to her feet. Trying desperately to regain her balance she tripped over her high heels and fell headlong into Stan, knocking them both back into the lawnchair. Before a surprised Stan had time to react, she had settled herself on his lap and started nuzzling his neck.

"You're hot!" she slurred in his ear.

"Oh Jesus!" Stan said, struggling vainly underneath her. "This isn't what you think, okay? I wasn't trying to…oh god," he groaned as her hand slid down into his jeans, "this can't happen, I've got a gir – "

He was cut off by the sozzled girl clamping her lips firmly over his. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to push her off him as her tongue, which tasted of a mixture of whisky and cigarettes, flicked around inside his mouth, exploring every crevice. Eventually she pulled out of the enforced kiss and sat giggling as Stan held her at arms length. He pulled a face as the taste of her lingered on his lips and looked around desperately for help as she moved in on him again. He heard the patio door open and sighed with relief.

"Oh thank god…" his voice trailed off and his eyes widened with horror as he saw the face of his rescuer. "Wendy!"

**I just love a little cliffhanger! I'm mean to Stan, I know but there's a lot more to come.**

**Chapter 2 up soon…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Girl Trouble**

**Thanks to all readers and reviewers, I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic, even if I don't really know where I'm going with it!**

**I don't own South Park. Not one single bit of it.**

**Chapter 2**

Wendy Testaburger stood stock still as she took in the scene before her, a look of shock, horror, surprise, or perhaps a mixture of the three, frozen on her carefully made up face. Stan watched, speechless, as his girlfriend's eyes drifted downwards to the unsightly bulge in his jeans.

"This is _so_ not what it looks like!" he protested weakly.

Wendy stared at them in a dreamlike way, and let out a little gasp as the full horror of what was playing out before her finally hit her. Tears welled in her hazel eyes.

"I fucking hate you, Stan Marsh!" she screamed.

She turned and ran back into the house, sobbing loudly.

"Wendy, wait!" Stan yelled after her.

He tipped the girl unceremoniously off his lap and she landed in a heap on the ground, still giggling in spite of her situation. One of her boobs escaped the confines of her dress as she tried to sit up.

Stan ran into the house after Wendy, shoving Kenny out of the way as he appeared in the doorway.

"Dude, what's up?" Kenny asked, hurrying after him. "What happened?"

Stan ignored him. He called after Wendy as he ran back through the house, simultaneously dodging and tripping over people. He burst out of the front door, stumbling over the front step in his haste. Wendy was standing in the front garden, sobbing on her best friend Bebe Stephen's shoulder. Bebe glared at him as he approached.

Stan swallowed hard. This should be easy enough to sort out, right? Wendy had seen how drunk that girl was – all he had to do was give his version of events, and it'd all be fine. They'd be laughing about it in the morning. Maybe.

"Wendy, I know it looks bad – "

"Looks bad?" she interrupted, her voice getting louder and more hysterical. "Looks bad? She had her hand down your pants!"

"Really?" Kenny asked, impressed. "Damn, Stan!"

"Shut up!" Stan muttered. Turning back to Wendy, he continued: "She wasn't feeling well. I took her outside because I thought it might help her feel better…" His voice trailed off. Wendy clearly wasn't buying this – the look on her face was now somewhere between angry and furious.

"So your way of making her feel better is getting her to give you a handjob?" Bebe asked sarcastically.

"No, it wasn't like that!" Stan cried, flustered.

He looked around, suddenly painfully aware that they had an audience. It seemed that everybody who was still sober enough to care had come outside to watch him single-handedly destroy his relationship.

"Dude, I'm sorry," Kenny muttered. "I didn't realise you were trying to get off. I'd never have told her where you were if I'd known."

"You were trying to get off?" Stan's other best friend, Kyle Broflovski asked as he joined them in the garden.

"No! No, look," Stan said in desperation, turning between his girlfriend and his best friends. "I was not trying to get off, okay? This is all a misunderstanding!"

"She had her hand down your pants, dude," Kenny said. "That's a pretty big misunderstanding!"

"Jesus Christ, Stan!" Kyle said, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Stan stared at them, shocked. If his two best friends thought he was guilty, what hope did he have of convincing Wendy?

"Wendy, please!" he pleaded. "Let's go somewhere we can talk about this!"

Wendy pulled away from Bebe and walked away from him, wiping her mascara stained cheeks with her hands. "There's nothing to talk about. Just leave me alone, Stan!"

"Honey, just give me a chance to explain – "

"I said leave me alone, Stan!" Wendy shouted. She picked up a small stone plant pot and hurled it at him as hard as she could. Stan and Kyle managed to duck in time, but unfortunately Kenny, who hadn't been paying attention, turned at the wrong moment and got hit full in the face.

He cried out and put a hand to his head. Blood flowed freely from the wound, pouring over his face and down his neck. He staggered away, dazed.

"Jesus Christ, Wendy!" Stan shouted, horrified.

Wendy stared first at Kenny, and then at her hand, as though accusing it of acting entirely alone.

"I didn't mean too…" she murmured.

"Uh, guys, what's Kenny doing?" Kyle asked suddenly.

They all turned. Kenny, unnoticed by everyone, had staggered into the road. He reached the middle and collapsed. An air of inevitability settled over the watching teens as they waited for something else to happen. What was it going to be this time? A bolt of lightning, perhaps? A tank full of pissed off soldiers, maybe? Or a satellite falling from space? They all looked around wonderingly, some of them with mobile phones at the ready. Kenny's varied deaths had had more hits on YouTube than Susan Boyle.

A couple of minutes went by and still nothing happened. Eventually Kyle turned to Stan, who looked bemused.

"Maybe he's not gonna die tonight. We'd better move him."

"Yeah, okay."

They had barely stepped into the road when a police car shot around the corner, sirens blaring. They jumped back in alarm as it sped past them and ran straight over Kenny, before skidding to a halt further down the road. Kenny let out a low moan.

"Jesus, he's still alive!" Stan said in amazement.

Not for long, though. The police car reversed back towards them, adding insult to Kenny's many injuries by squishing him again. The car stopped in front of the shocked kids, with Kenny caught under the front wheels. This time, there was no moan.

"Oh my god, he killed Kenny!"

"You bastard!"

The driver's door opened and Officer Barbrady got out, putting on his sunglasses even though it was nearly midnight. He peered under the front of the car, clearly puzzled.

"Hmm, didn't know they had speed bumps round here!" he muttered to himself. Turning his attention to the kids, he said: "Alright people, nothing to see here! Time to go home."

He moved towards them in an attempt to disperse them.

Stan and Kyle gazed under the car, where Kenny's mangled body was beginning to ooze blood and other bodily fluids.

"Whose turn is it to call the morgue this time?" Kyle asked matter-of-factly.

"You do it," Stan replied. "I've got to talk to…" His voice trailed off as he looked for Wendy, but there was no sign of her. "Dammit!"

"It's probably for the best anyway," Kyle said as he dialled a number on his phone. "It'll give her a chance to cool off."

"Yeah, maybe." Stan mumbled. "Look, I'm gonna split, okay? See ya tomorrow."

"Yeah."

Stan walked up the street, tucking his hands into his pockets. He could hear Kyle talking to South Park's coroner on the phone, like they had both done many times before. Hell, they were on first name terms with him now.

He was halfway home before he realised he'd left his coat at Clyde's. Perhaps Clyde would find it and return it. But then again, perhaps not, judging by the state he'd been in at the party.

Stan ambled on, the events of the night playing over and over in his head like a bad snuff movie. It was just his luck – it would have to be Wendy that caught him with a strange girl who just happened to have her hand down his pants. No, caught wasn't the right word. It wasn't like he _asked _the stupid bitch to jump on him. Stan snorted. She hadn't even been that hot, either. He knew one thing for sure, though – Wendy wasn't going to forgive him easily. She could hold onto anger like a pitbull with a bone. Nope, he had a lot of making up to do, starting from now.

*

Darkness swirled all around him as he fell. He felt like he was falling through time and space. He tried to reach out and grab something, but he had no arms. Kenny McCormick was nothing, just a shapeless entity drifting through the blackness.

Then all of a sudden the feeling stopped and Kenny began to feel more solid again. Finally, it was over. He breathed in and out a few times, just to make sure he had fully returned and then he reached out, expecting to touch the cold metal of the mortuary slab. Instead, he got something soft and cottony in his grasp. In fact the whole slab felt springy and well, comfortable, as though he was lying on a mattress. He frowned. The mortuary staff had never been that considerate before.

He reached up and ran a hand through his hair – his curly hair. Curly hair? Kenny sat up, suddenly aware that something was very wrong. Had the staff been screwing around with his body again? He remembered all too clearly the time they had, as a joke, put makeup on his corpse. He'd walked home looking like a teenage drag queen, wondering why people were staring at him.

As his eyes adjusted to the early morning gloom, he became aware of something else: he wasn't even in the mortuary. He seemed to be in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom either…a _girl's_ bedroom. Everywhere he looked it was a sea of pink – from the curtains to the bedsheets, the lamp shade to his vest top. Kenny let out a little yelp, leapt out of the strange bed and ran to a nearby mirror that had pretty, girly fairy lights wound around the edge. He stared at his reflection, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Staring back at him was the face – and body – of one of his classmates, Annie.

"The fuck?" he or rather, she, muttered.

He moved away from the mirror and sat down on the end of the bed, while his mind, still groggy from his trip back from the afterlife, struggled to process what was happening. He was a girl. Or, rather, he was inside a girl – just not in the way he would've liked.

How had this happened, and why? As his mind struggled with these important questions, his eyes were drawn towards something else altogether. Well, two things, really. It took his new female brain a couple of moments to catch up with the rest of him.

_He had boobs._

Kenny knew he should get up and alert someone to his situation, but he remained glued to the bed, one thought dominating his entire brain: _I've got boobs_. Kenny tried desperately to focus on the situation at hand. Right now, his own body was on ice in the local morgue. If he didn't get back into it soon, they'd incinerate it. On the other hand, however, he had boobs.

"Annie, come on! You're gonna be late for school!" a man's voice called from just outside the room.

Kenny jumped and looked around guiltily, as if he'd been caught with a dirty magazine. He got up and walked over to the mirror again. There was no way he could go to school – neither he nor Annie would live it down if anyone found out about what had happened.

But what _had_ happened? Kenny stared hard into the mirror, frowning as he tried to remember the past week that he'd spent in the lovely surroundings of Hell. It took five minutes before he'd fully recollected everything… and one event in particular. His new pouty mouth dropped open.

"You bastard!" he said angrily, although Annie's voice made him sound like he was on helium.

As he turned away from the mirror, he heard a deep mocking laugh. The bastard was laughing at him! He clenched his small fists and shook with anger.

And, deep down in the depths of Hell, Satan laughed until his sides ached.

**Ah, poor Kenneth! I have plans for him, very unpleasant plans!** **As I have for all four of the boys, actually...**

**Chapter 3 up soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, yes, I know it's been a while between updates, but between work and writers block, I haven't been able to get this chapter done as quickly as I would like. Please put down whatever you're about to throw (especially you, Doomed-Orange-Parka)****, I promise to be quicker with the next update.**

**Chapter 3**

Just a couple of blocks away, another teenager had undergone a transformation of his own. Unlike Kenny, however, this change had been entirely his choice.

Kyle Broflovski switched off his hair straighteners and stepped away from the mirror, admiring his new look. It was definitely more radical than anything he'd had before. He smiled as he imagined his friends' faces when they saw him. And then there was her, of course. She was the main reason for doing this.

But the hair wasn't the only thing that was changing. He went to the wardrobe and got out the new clothes that he'd bought with her help. He dressed slowly, enjoying the anticipation warming his insides. His smile faded slightly as he thought of his mother's reaction, but he dismissed it almost immediately. He was 17 now and he could do whatever the hell he wanted. He wasn't his mother's little bubbe any more.

He put the finishing touches to his new look and had one last glance in the mirror. He took a deep breath and went downstairs to face what was sure to be very loud music.

*

Stan Marsh sat alone at his desk, doodling idly on a piece of paper. He stared into the distance, paying no attention to his drawing, or his classmates, some of whom were beginning to file into the classroom, ready for another of 's pointless lessons. Some of them said hey as they walked past, but he didn't respond. Misery weighed him down like a stone.

He'd been feeling this way ever since The Text. He'd known it was coming, but it still hurt like hell.

He'd done everything a disgraced boyfriend was expected to do when in the relationship doghouse: he'd said sorry countless times, bought flowers and had even stood under her bedroom window blasting 'Spank The Monkey' from a stereo until one of the neighbours had turned their hosepipe on him, but still Wendy refused to forgive him. And then, two days later, The Text had arrived, confirming his worst fears. It was just two words long, but those two words had cut right through to his heart.

_We're finished._

Stan and Wendy had split up numerous times in the past, but never by text. It was too cold, too distant, which made Stan fear that this time, Wendy meant it. They really were over.

As Stan sat immersed in his depressing thoughts, Cartman slouched past and sat down at his desk.

"Hey gaybot, what's goin' on?"

No reply.

Cartman glanced at his friend and rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ Stan, are you still moping over that stuck up bitch? Take it from me buddy; you are better off without her!"

Stan looked at him, unimpressed. "Is that all you can say?"

"Why? What else do you want?"

"Gee, I don't know, Cartman!" Stan said hotly. "Maybe some support or advice from my friend!"

"You want some advice; I'll give you two words: move on Stan!"

"That's three words, dumbass."

"There's just no talking to you, is there?" Cartman huffed in annoyance and began taking his books out of his bag.

Stan went back to his doodling and didn't even notice Kyle when he walked into the classroom. In fact, he didn't even register that it was his best friend until the whispering started.

"Oh my god, is that Kyle?" Craig Tucker asked in a stunned voice. Or as close to stunned as Craig Tucker was ever likely to get.

"Hey guys," Kyle said nervously. He stood in the doorway, feeling suddenly unsure of himself as his friends stared at him.

Stan gawped at him, open-mouthed. Even Cartman had been shocked into silence.

Kyle was wearing a long black leather coat that fell to his knees, a black T-shirt with a white pentagram on the front, black combats and black biker boots. Stan's eyes moved upwards and alighted on his head, which was for once, hatless. Kyle's frizzy red Jewfro had been straightened and fell in neat bangs across his face. Black streaks had been dyed neatly through his hair, giving it a multi-layered look.

Fourteen pairs of eyes watched him as he walked to his desk and sat down, ignoring his friends' staring. After a while, the noise level in the room rose again as everybody got over the shock of the new Kyle. Everybody except Stan and Cartman.

"Dude – what…the…fuck?" Stan asked slowly, still not quite believing what he was seeing.

Kyle ignored him. After a few more moments of stunned silence, Cartman burst into laughter.

"Whoo, it's the Jew Goth!" he said in a mock ghostly voice, before collapsing into hysterics again.

"I don't care what you guys think!" Kyle said defensively. "Henrietta likes it!"

"Kyle, you've only been dating this girl, for like, a week!" Stan said. "Don't you think it's a little early in the relationship to be Gothing up?"

"I know you're only looking out for me, Stan, and I appreciate it, but I'm a big boy now," Kyle said. "For once, I'm happy. Henrietta actually _likes_ me, and I really like her too. I know exactly what I'm doing, so just let me do it, okay?"

"As long as you're sure," Stan said uncertainly. He smiled. "What'd your parents say?"

"I think they could hear mom screaming in Russia!" Kyle said, smiling wanly. "Ike thought it was cool, though."

"You are so lame, Kyle," Cartman said, wiping his eyes. "So unbelievably lame."

They had barely got over this shock when the next one stumbled into the classroom, bedraggled and out of breath. Annie's face was flushed, and her fringe was plastered to her forehead with sweat. To the boys' bemusement, she staggered over to them and collapsed in Kenny's chair.

"I'll tell you one thing, guys," she said between breaths. "Never try to run in heels. Jesus Christ." She reached down and loosened the clasp on her black T-bar shoes.

"Uh, Annie, what are you doing?" Stan asked, confused.

"What am I doing? I'm having the time of my fucking life, that's what I'm doing!" she replied sarcastically. "You know what I've just had to do? I've had to run halfway round South Park, because Annie's dad – who's got serious overprotection issues, by the way – insisted on giving me a ride to school when I made it pretty clear that I didn't want to go, so I had to run all the way to the morgue to tell them what's happened, and when they finished laughing they agreed to keep my body on ice until I can figure out a way back into it, and _then _I had to run all the way back to my house to tell my parents what's happened, but I don't know why I bothered because they were too drunk to care, so then I had to run all the way back here to get to class in time to stop the school calling Annie's parents to tell them that I'm not there, because then her dad would totally track me down and murder me even though I'm already dead!" She exhaled deeply and put her head on the desk. "How are you guys?" she asked, her voice muffled.

"Um, fine." Stan looked at the others, bewildered. Cartman raised his eyebrows and twirled his index finger next to his head. "Annie, isn't your desk over there?" Stan asked, pointing towards the back of the classroom.

Annie looked up at them, doing an automatic double take when she caught sight of Kyle. "Guys, it's me!" she said, annoyed.

"We can see that it's you!" Cartman said rudely. "Now fuck off out of Kenny's place!"

She leaned in towards them. "I can't, fatass, because I _am _Kenny!" Kenny/Annie looked at their disbelieving faces. "Oh come on! D'you really think I'd make something like this up?"

"I believe you," Kyle said.

"Uh, thanks…Kyle," Kenny said, looking Kyle up and down warily.

"So what happened?" Kyle asked.

"You guys know I went to hell right, because of the drinking and all that? Well, while I was there, I…" Kenny's voice trailed off, and he took a deep breath. "I played a game of poker against Satan, and I won, so this is my punishment." He stared at Kyle, distracted by his friend's new image. "Dude, are you wearing guyliner?"

"Wait a second! You're in a girl's body because of a game of _poker_!" Stan exclaimed in disbelief. He looked at Kyle and then at Kenny, and shook his head. "Can this day get any weirder?"

"Satan's a bad loser!" Kenny protested.

"Dude, it was a game of poker!" Stan said. "That's no reason to do…that." He waved his hand in Kenny's direction.

"It was a little more complicated than th – "

"ANNIE!" Bebe strode over to them, her eyes blazing. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I was just – "

"We're not talking to them, remember?" She grabbed Kenny by the shoulders and dragged him to his feet.

"No, wait, I'm not – "Kenny started to protest as Bebe pulled him away to join the rest of the girls, who had taken their places at the back of the classroom. Wendy sat in the middle, staring at her desk, a curtain of long black hair covering her face. Stan gazed at her hopefully, trying to catch her eye, but was met with glares from the other girls.

The bell rang in the corridor, giving a final warning to anyone who was not already in their classroom. Mr Garrison sauntered in, closing the door behind him, and took his place in front of the class.

"Okay, children, lets take our seats," he said. Cartman rolled his eyes. Mr Garrison still constantly referred to them as "children" even though a few of the class were approaching their 18th birthdays.

"I've got a couple of announcements before we get started," Garrison continued. "You'll be pleased to hear that the principal _has _decided to let you have a Christmas party this year, despite last year's…unpleasantness." He paused to throw an accusatory glance at Cartman, who smiled back sweetly. "Now, the theme this year is fancy dress, and it's unlimited, so you can come as whatever you like, so you could try a Christmassy look, or a sci-fi look, or maybe," he smiled wickedly as he caught sight of Kyle, "like Kyle, you prefer the anorexic vampire look."

"I'm a Goth, dude!" Kyle said, annoyed.

"Sure you are Kyle!" Mr. Garrison replied sarcastically. "And I'm Barbra Streisand!" He turned to the blackboard, grinning to himself.

Stan hid a smile behind his hand. Garrison did have a point, though – Kyle's pale skin contrasted sharply with all the black, making him look more anaemic than gothic.

"Oh, and one more thing," Garrison said, turning back. "Wendy, could you stay behind after class, please? Mr. Mackey and I would like to talk to you, okay?"

Wendy looked up and blinked, as though she'd just been woken from a long sleep. "Uh, okay," she said quietly.

Garrison turned back to the blackboard and began his lesson, which was on _Days Of Our Lives_, from 1989 to 2002. Most of the class, bored rigid, stared into space. At the back of the room, the girls swapped makeup tips, while Wendy stared miserably at the clock. Finally, after an hour of sheer tedium, the bell rang. All of the class, except Wendy, gathered up their books and stampeded towards the door. When they'd gone, Garrison beckoned her to his desk. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in, Mr. Mackey."

Mackey entered and stood next to Garrison. He smiled sympathetically at Wendy. "The reason we've asked you to stay behind, Wendy m'kay, is because you don't seem to be yourself, m'kay. Your grades are right down on what they used to be, and we're concerned about you , m'kay."

"Well, he is," Garrison said. "I couldn't give two shits."

Mackey shot him a look. "Are you having problems at home, Wendy? No? Y-you're not on drugs are you, 'cause drugs are bad, m'kay? You shouldn't do drugs." Wendy shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Its okay, Wendy. I'm your school counsellor, I'm here to help, m'kay."

"You wanna help me, then tell me why boys are such useless, spineless, cheating, lying pricks!" Wendy said, her eyes hardening.

Mackey looked stunned. Garrison stood up and grabbed his stuff.

"Okay, I'm gonna leave you guys to it," he said quickly, and exited the room before Mackey could stop him.

Mackey stared at the furious Wendy. "Uh, I'm sensing some anger here, m'kay."

Wendy sighed and rolled her eyes. "Can I go now, please?"

"Not yet, Wendy, m'kay," Mackey said. "Now, as I mentioned earlier, you are falling behind with your schoolwork, and since parents can now sue us if a child fails, m'kay, Mr. Garrison and I have decided to assign you a tutor to help you catch up - and so we don't get sued, m'kay."

Wendy's mouth dropped open in horror. Only the dumbest kids got assigned a tutor.

"No! I don't need a tutor!" she cried. "I promise I'll catch up, okay! I'll work really, really hard, a-and I swear I won't let my parents sue you!"

"I'm sorry, Wendy, the decision has been made, m'kay," Mackey said. "One of your classmates has already agreed to tutor you." He turned to the door. "Come in, m'kay!"

Wendy shut her eyes and offered up a silent prayer. _Please, God, let it be anybody but Eric Cartman._

She opened her eyes and looked at the boy standing in the doorway, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Butters Stotch smiled back at her brightly.

"Hey there, study buddy!"

**Meh, a bit of a rubbish ending, I know, but I was really anxious to get this chapter posted. Anyway, please review.**

**Chapter 4 up soon…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, so here we go with chapter 4! Thanks to all readers/reviewers, you're all brilliant! Not that I'm trying to get good reviews, or anything…**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 4**

It had been a day and a half since Kenny's unwanted change of gender, and he was already finding life as a girl tough. There were all sorts of things that he couldn't get to grips with, like makeup (especially mascara), bras (why the hell did they put the clasps at the back?), and sitting down to pee. That was one of the bigger problems Kenny had had: he had ended up with wet feet more than a few times.

And then there were the clothes. Annie owned more clothes than he had owned in his entire life, and she seemed to have a pair of shoes to match every outfit. The female obsession with clothes, and especially shoes, mystified Kenny. What was wrong with a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt?

So here he was, walking down Main Street towards Shakey's in an outfit that he had literally thrown together. Well, walking was an exaggeration – it was more like half walking, half stumbling in the heels that he had very unwisely chosen.

He stopped to admire himself in a shop window. _Oh yeah! _If he had been in his own body, he would definitely want to nail that chick.

A series of wolf whistles from across the street made him turn around. He smiled coquettishly at a group of seventh graders and walked on, shaking his hot little booty. After a few hip swivelling strides, however, the reality of the situation dawned on him. He was shaking his hot little booty. For guys.

As he absorbed this thought, Kenny stopped concentrating on what he was doing, one high heeled foot caught the other and the ground rushed up to meet him. He bumped his chin on the pavement and felt a tooth rattle ominously in his lower jaw.

He lay there for a moment, stunned, listening as the whistles turned into roars of laughter. He blinked as tears of humiliation stung his eyes.

"This isn't funny anymore!" he shouted at the pavement. "Put me back in my own body NOW!"

There was no answer, just the coldness of the pavement seeping through his clothes. Kenny sighed and stood up, dusting himself down. He had no choice. There was only one way to solve this, and that was to contact Satan directly, which was something he'd been trying to avoid, because it involved human blood, animal sacrifice and a lot of chanting. Kenny hated chanting.

But there was no time for that now. He hurried on towards Shakey's, rubbing his bruised chin. He felt his mood lift a little as he stepped inside the pizza parlour, the warmth and delicious smells embracing him like an old friend.

He looked around for his friends. They were sitting towards the back of Shakey's round three tables that had been pushed together to create one big one. Bebe sat at the head of the table, arms folded.

"You're late, Annie!" she said sternly as Kenny approached.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." He squeezed himself in next to Heidi. He had decided not to tell the girls the truth mainly because, being the colossal pervert that he was, he thought they'd assume that he'd engineered the whole thing to try and get close to them, so Kenny had decided to keep quiet and "play" Annie, at least until the whole sorry mess was sorted out.

He looked around the table. Most of the class had turned up: Clyde and Craig were there, Token Black, Tweek Tweaker and Kevin McSorley had turned up, and Red, Powder, Bebe and Heidi were representing the girls. Kenny was surprised to see that Cartman had showed up, as well as Kyle and Henrietta. The only two people missing, as far as he could tell, were Stan and Wendy.

A grungily dressed waiter came over to take their orders, chewing his gum noisily as he wrote everything down. While the girls were distracted Kenny leant towards Cartman.

"Where's Stan?"

"He chickened out," Cartman replied. "He's probably sitting at home right now, jackin' off to a picture of Wendy."

Kenny sat back in his seat as the grungy waiter waited to the remaining orders. Bebe waited until he'd slouched back toward the kitchen before rapping the table with her fist.

"Okay everybody, let's get started!" She smiled round at them, clearly enjoying her new role of chairwoman. "I think we all know why we're here!"

A few people looked at each other.

"No!" Clyde said.

That knocked Bebe off her stride. "Oh!" she said uncertainly. "Well, for those of you that don't know, which seems to be everybody, we're here because we need to start planning the Christmas party. The principal's leaving it all to us this year." She paused to think. "Damn, I was sure I told you all this already."

"Is that why you dragged us all here?" Craig asked crossly. "I thought this might be something important!"

"This is important!" Bebe shot back. "We need to decide who – "

"Where's Queen Slut?" Cartman interrupted. "Doesn't she normally do this shit?"

"If you mean _Wendy_," Bebe said, glaring at him, "She's not here because she's busy, so she's asked me to do this instead."

There were a few murmurings amongst the group. Wendy never normally missed a chance to try and get her friends involved in school activities, or even better, boss them about.

"As I was saying," Bebe said loudly, trying to regain the group's attention, "We have to start thinking about – "

"Hey, you know Stan's not here either!" Clyde interrupted. "Maybe they got back together!"

"No they haven't!" Bebe said crossly. "Wendy just has things to do tonight, that's all! Trust me, she'll never get back with that skank!"

Kyle glared at her. There was a brief lull in proceedings as the food and drink arrived, so Kenny took the chance to quiz Heidi about Wendy's mysterious absence.

"So what's Wendy doing tonight that's so much more important than this?"

Heidi looked around to check no-one was listening. "She's having her first tutoring session with Butters tonight." She stared at his perplexed face. "We were talking about it in the bathroom yesterday. You must remember!"

Kenny racked his brains. He remembered being in the girls loos, and the girls wittering on in the background, but his attention had been on something else entirely. "No."

"Oh no, that's right," Heidi said, staring at him. "You were too busy touching your own boobs to listen. Freak!" She turned away from him.

"Okay guys!" Bebe said loudly, startling some of the group. "Can we get back to-"

"How long is this gonna take?" Henrietta interrupted. "Me and Kyle are supposed to be going to the Tweaker's coffee shop to discuss why life is so meaningless!"

"Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time, Kyle!" Cartman chuckled.

"If people would just let me – "Bebe began.

"I really need to get out of this place!" Henrietta cut in. "I can feel joy beginning to creep into my soul!"

"We'll get out of here soon, promise!" Kyle said to her.

Everybody looked at Bebe, who had hidden her face behind a notepad. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then put the notepad down and looked at them.

"Has anyone else got anything they wanna say?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice level. "Or can I _finally_ get on with this?"

There was a short, unresponsive silence. She nodded. "Good. So," she consulted her notepad, Red's organising the food, Heidi's getting a DJ, and Powder, Annie and I are in charge of decorating the hall. We need people to help with the food and decoration, which we'll be doing after school. Any volunteers?"

"I've got wrestling practice after school," Clyde said.

"Me and Craig have got football practice!" Token said.

"I've got basketball practice," Kyle said apologetically.

"I just don't care!" Cartman chimed in.

"Okay, great, that's fine!" Bebe said sarcastically. "Me and the girls will just do everything, as usual! Thanks a lot!"

She grabbed her coat and purse and stalked towards the door. The girls, excluding Kenny rushed after her. As soon as the door had closed behind them, the boys leapt on Bebe's untouched pizza.

"Well, that was pointless!" Kenny said, leaning back and stretching his arms.

He looked around. Some people had decided to stay and order more food, others, including Kyle and Henrietta, were leaving. The ones that were still eating took their food and drink to other empty tables. Soon only Kenny and Cartman were left at the meeting table.

"You wanna go to my house and play Rock Band?" Cartman asked.

Kenny looked at his watch. "No, I'd better head back to Annie's. If I don't get back before ten her dad'll ground me." He looked outside. A steady rain had begun to fall since he'd arrived. "Uh, any chance I could catch a ride?"

"Yeah, okay. Pussy!"

*

After dropping Kenny back at his temporary home, Cartman drove back towards his own house. His route, as always, took him past Wendy's place. Cartman glanced at it as he drove past and then braked. He reversed and parked in front of it, gazing at it wonderingly.

There was something about Wendy Testaburger that drove him to distraction. Sure, her voice was like nails on a blackboard, and her stupid hippie beliefs made him want to vomit into the gutter, but still, something about her fascinated him.

There had been something between them once, back when they were eight years old. Cartman had shared his first kiss with her and ever since that day, his feelings for her had veered between hate and…something else. It wasn't love, he was pretty certain of that, it was – Cartman shook his head. It was time to be honest with himself. He wanted to bang Wendy Testaburger. He wanted to pull her hair and bite her neck. He imagined her scratching his back as he…

Cartman felt a familiar ache in his groin and opened his eyes. The fantasy drained away in his head, replaced by the sound of the car engine idling, and the swishing of the windscreen wipers. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and looked at the house again. What had he got to lose? It wasn't like Stan ever had to find out. _No,_ he corrected himself, _it doesn't matter if he did find out. It's not like they're together any more._

He switched the engine off and got out of the car, feeling apprehensive. He walked up to the front door, fighting the urge to turn around and run away. _This is gonna go one of two ways, _he thought as he rang the doorbell. _She's either gonna drag me inside and screw me till my brain melts, or she's gonna call the cops. _He crossed his fingers behind his back, praying for option A.

Wendy answered the door with a smile. When she saw who was slouching casually on her doorstep, her feature rearranged themselves into an expression of shock.

"Hey Wendy!" Cartman said cheerily, getting ready to run.

"Uh, hey, Eric," she said, glancing furtively behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see if you were okay, that's all." Cartman smiled pleasantly, hoping against hope that she'd buy the lie.

"You wanted to see if I was okay!" Wendy repeated slowly. "Well thank you, that's very…sweet of you, but I'm fine." She stared at him, confused. Eric Cartman was never nice to her. Come to think of it, he was never nice to anyone.

"Good. That's good!" Cartman said, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. This wasn't going quite the way he'd planned. "What are you up to?"

"Oh you know, nothing much. The usual."

They both fell silent, unable to think of anything else to say. Cartman was disappointed. He had been hoping that she might at least order him off her doorstep, but instead she just stood there, looking as uncomfortable as him. Frankly, it was turning him off. He was about to give in and go when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Are you okay, Wendy?" Butters Stotch asked from the lounge doorway. "Oh, hey there, Eric!"

Cartman looked at Butters, then at Wendy, then back again, not quite believing what his eyes were seeing. Wendy and _Butters_? What the hell was that?

"It's not what you think!" Wendy said quickly, clearly flustered. "Butters is tutoring me! That's all it is, I swear!"

Cartman stared at her, openmouthed, then burst into laughter.

"Jesus Christ Wendy, I knew you were a dumb bitch, but this is…this is just beautiful!" He looked at them and laughed again.

"Please Cartman, don't tell anyone!" Wendy pleaded as Cartman backed away, a malicious look in his eyes. "Please!"

Without so much as a goodbye, Cartman turned and began to walk towards his car, laughing to himself. Maybe it hadn't been a total bust after all! Sure, he hadn't got laid, but he'd found out something that was nearly as good. He was nearly skipping by the time he reached the car.

Wendy shut the door and walked to the stairs, flopping down miserably on the bottom step.

"Great, now the whole world's gonna know!" She looked up at Butters. "This is so embarrassing!"

She regretted the last remark almost straight away. Butters' chubby little face crumbled, and he looked away.

"I'm sorry, Wendy," he said sadly. "I don't mean to be embarrassing, it just kinda happens. My parents say I was born an embarrassment."

"No Butters, I didn't mean you!" Wendy said quickly, kicking herself. "I meant the whole tutoring thing. I shouldn't need tutoring! I'm smart, goddamit!"

"It's okay to want help, Wendy," Butters said quietly. "Everybody needs help sometimes. Hell, I'll bet the President even needs help sometimes!"

Wendy looked up at him, a smile crossing her face. Sometimes, Butters Stotch could be incredibly insightful, in his own sweet way.

"You're right!" she said, standing up. "I shouldn't care so much about what people think! So I have a tutor, so what!" She tried to inject some enthusiasm into the words, but they still sounded hollow.

"That's the spirit!" Butters said cheerily. "Now let's go finish those maths problems!"

Wendy couldn't help but smile again. His eagerness was infectious.

"Yeah, let's do it!" she said, leading the way back into the lounge. "Let's kick that calculus' ass!"

**Hope you enjoyed it! Please please review!**

**Chapter 5 up soon…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Girl Trouble**

**Yay, chapter 5! Thank you for all your reviews, keep 'em coming!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 5**

The day after the meeting-that-never-was, Stan sat alone in the school cafeteria, waiting for his friends, or at least someone he knew, to join him. Cartman was arguing with Chef about the size of the lunches he was dishing out, Kyle was outside with the Goths, probably choking on a cigarette, and Kenny/Annie was God knows where.

Stan glared at the table as some students sitting nearby burst into a chorus of "Winter Wonderland". The cafeteria itself was beautifully decorated thanks to Bebe and the girls (including a reluctant Kenny), but Stan had never felt so un-Christmassy. He wanted to curl up under his duvet at home and pretend Christmas wasn't happening. The fact that it was Wendy's favourite time of year didn't help, either.

He looked up as Cartman approached the table, his plate overflowing with food. It seemed that his method of shouting: "Gimme more!" at Chef had paid off. Without so much as a glance at his friend, Cartman tore hungrily into his lunch. Stan figured that it had to have been at least ten minutes since his last meal. Cartman looked at him, as though noticing him for the first time.

"You not eating?"

"Not hungry."

"Stan, you gotta stop letting that ho get to you. Trust me, she's not all that!" He grinned to himself.

"This has got nothing to do with Wendy!" Stan said tetchily. "I'm just not hungry, that's all!" He turned slightly, trying not to inhale the sweet aroma of Cartman's turkey.

"No, of course you're not," Cartman said, shaking his head. He looked up and grinned as Kyle entered the cafeteria, coughing like an asthmatic marathon runner. "Hey look, it's Kike The Crappy Vampire!"

"Fuck…you…fatboy!" Kyle managed between laboured breaths. He dropped down next to Stan, letting out another series of wheezy coughs.

"Kyle, you shouldn't smoke if that's what it does to you!" Stan told him sternly.

"But all the other Goths do it!" Kyle protested in a strained voice. "Even Kindergoth can smoke twenty a day!"

"If the other Goths jumped off a cliff would you do it?" Stan asked, exasperated. "Actually, don't answer that – I think they really would!" Deciding to change the subject, he asked: "So how did the meeting go last night?"

"It was a total bust!" Kyle said, taking a swig of Stan's coke. He coughed again and some of the drink shot out of his nose. "Bebe stormed off before we could decide anything!"

"Bebe?" Stan asked, confused.

"Yeah, she took charge of the meeting," Kyle said, mopping up the spilt coke with his sleeve.

"She can take charge of me any day!" Cartman said with a lazy grin.

"Was Wendy there?" Stan asked cautiously.

"Nope," Kyle replied. "Bebe said she had things to do, or something."

Cartman snickered. Stan ignored him. "What things?"

"The hell should I know?" Kyle looked at the lunch queue, which thanks to one fifth grade student's fussiness, was nearly out of the door.

"Well, she must have been doing something!" Stan said. "She never misses anything like that!"

"Just give it a fucking rest, Stan!" Cartman said impatiently. "You're fucking obsessed with her, and you're not even fucking _with_ her any more!"

"I just…I'm worried that she might've been with another guy!" Stan said slowly, his eyes dropping to the table. "Remember that time she dumped me in fourth grade? She started going out with Token, like, the next day!"

"Stan, I can tell you exactly what Wendy was doing last night, and who she was doing it with. That's if you really wanna know…" Cartman went back to his lunch, leaving the sentence dangling enticingly.

Stan stared at him for a long time, trying to determine whether he was lying. "Okay, I'll bite," he said eventually.

Cartman grinned at him. "I'm sorry, I've just gotta savour this before I say it!" he said teasingly. He took a deep breath and continued: "Wendy was being tutored last night! By Butters! Can you believe that! That stuck up bitch is actually being tutored!" He burst out laughing. "By Butters!" he added unnecessarily.

Stan sat back in his chair. "How do you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"I, er, found out from someone else. Was it Clyde? Yeah, I think it was Clyde."

"This is because of our break up!" Stan said in disbelief. "She was fine before we broke up, and now she's being tutored? By Butters?" He shook his head. "I had no idea she was so upset!" He looked at Cartman. "Have you told anyone else about this?" he asked sharply.

Cartman thought for a moment. "Let's see. I Tweeted it, put it on Facebook and Mel Gibson Fans Anonymous. Apart from that, no."

"So you haven't told any real people?" Kyle asked.

"Nope. Only you guys."

"Good. Let's keep it that way," Stan said. "I've screwed her life up already. I'm not gonna humiliate her as well."

"Of course not, Stan!" Cartman said kindly. "So let me do it for you!"

"No! I'm serious, Cartman!" Stan said angrily. "You say anything, and I'll kick the crap out of you!" He looked across to the lunch queue, which had vastly reduced to just a few people. "You know what? I think I could eat something after all!"

*

"You want some more chips, Leo?" Wendy popped her head into the lounge and smiled at Butters.

"Sure!"

She grabbed a bowl and poured some crisps into it. She'd had five tutoring sessions with Butters now, and each time she was getting better. She wasn't sure whether that was more to do with his teaching skills or her growing confidence, but she was definitely getting her mojo back. And the strangest thing of all? She was actually enjoying spending time with him – so much so that she'd begun calling him by his real name.

Wendy took the crisps through and set them down in front of him. He smiled a thank you and continued composing questions for the history tests he was setting her. That was one of the many things she had noticed about Butters: he either knew an awful lot about things, or nothing at all. There was no inbetween with him.

He handed her the question paper and looked at his watch. "Okay, I'll give you…fifteen minutes for this."

Wendy eagerly set to work. She had the whole test done within ten minutes, and handed it to him with a triumphant smile. "I don't think you'll find much wrong with that!"

"We'll see."

He marked it, a smile growing on his face with every correct answer. "Full marks. That was really good, Wendy. I don't think you're gonna need me for much longer!"

"Really? Oh." Wendy was surprised to find herself feeling genuinely disappointed. "Well, then, I just want you to know that I've really enjoyed it. With you, I mean."

"Yeah, I have, too."

They were silent for a few moments, Wendy poring over a textbook, while Butters ate a few crisps. Despite the apparently comfortable silence, Wendy could feel something indefinable hanging in the air between them.

"You know, if you were my girlfriend, I'd never cheat on you!" Butters said suddenly.

Wendy stared at him. "Uh, th-thanks Leo!" she said uncertainly. "That's very…sweet of you!" _Where the hell did that come from?_

Butters swallowed hard, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Wendy. I shouldn't have said that!"

"That's okay," she said. "It means a lot actually."

She stared at him, suddenly caught in his big, cornflower blue eyes, another of the things she'd recently noticed about him. That and the cute dimples when he smiled.

Before she could stop herself she was moving in on him. It was only when her lips were millimetres away from his that she realised with horror what she was doing and pulled back. Butters frowned, suddenly aware of her embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah!" she said, looking away to hide the blush creeping up her face. "I just gotta…go to the bathroom!"

Before Butters could utter another word, she sprang up and quickly left the room. She grabbed her cellphone from her handbag and ran upstairs to her bedroom, closing the door carefully behind her, then sat on her bed and called Bebe.

"Hello?" Bebe sounded distracted.

"Hey, it's me."

"Oh, hey, what's up? Aren't you supposed to be studying with Butters tonight?"

Wendy scratched the back of her head self consciously. "Yeah, I am. What are you doing?"

"Watching _Twilight_!" Wendy could almost hear her swooning.

"How many times have you seen that?" Wendy asked. "You must know it off by heart by now!"

"You can never have too much Robert Pattinson!" Bebe replied. "So, what's up? I'm guessing you didn't call just to talk about my unhealthy obsession with _Twilight_."

"Uh, not exactly, no." Wendy licked her lips, and ploughed on: "Something happened tonight, and I'm not sure what to do."

"What happened?" She heard Bebe eating something that sounded like popcorn.

"_Something _almost happened between me and Le-Butters!"

"What?!" She had Bebe's full attention now. Robert Pattinson was a distant memory. "Did he hit on you?"

Wendy squirmed uncomfortably. "Not exactly. I hit on him!"

There was a long pause, then Bebe said: "O_kay_."

"I don't know what happened!" Wendy cried. "One minute we were just sitting there talking, the next I'm trying to jump on him!"

"Have you got any idea why you would do that, apart from temporary insanity?"

"Well, he was being really nice to me, like he always is, and then he said…" Wendy paused, her eyes welling up. "He said that if I was his girlfriend, he'd never cheat on me."

"That's it, then!" Bebe said matter-of-factly. "He's the first guy to take an interest in you since you broke up with Stan. You felt low, and he made you feel good, so now you wanna ride him like Seabiscuit!"

"Bebe!" Wendy said, appalled.

"It's true!" Bebe protested. "You make out that you're this Little Miss Innocent, never been kissed, all that shit, but you're just as horny as the rest of us!"

"I am ending this conversation now!"

"See, you're in total denial!"

"I'm not horny for anyone, least of all Butters!" Wendy said hotly. "I just got confused for a second, that's all! It won't be happening again!"

"Okay, there's no need to get mad!" Bebe said. "But if you do jump on him again, my advice is to shut your eyes and think of Robert Pattinson!"

"Goodbye Bebe!"

*

Butters Stotch stood motionlessly at his locker, his bag dangling by his side. He stared inside the locker, as though looking for the answer to a deep and meaningful question. And in a way, he was.

Just what had happened the previous night? He was pretty sure that something had gone on between him and Wendy, he just wasn't sure what it was. He had thought that she'd tried to kiss him at one point, but he'd dismissed that straight away. Why would a girl like Wendy want to kiss a boy like him? Butters sighed. Maybe he was just seeing things that weren't there, like Tweek and his underwear gnomes.

He shoved books into his locker angrily. Love wasn't something he was familiar with – most of the girls at South Park High wouldn't touch him with a ten foot barge pole with a black mamba attached to the end – so even if something _had_ happened, which was doubtful, he wouldn't have known what to do anyway. There was one thing that he knew for sure, though: the atmosphere between them had definitely changed when Wendy had come back from the bathroom. Butters had left soon afterwards, feeling bewildered, much like he did now. So if nothing had happened, why the sudden change in atmosphere? He shook his head in annoyance. He was just going round in circles now.

He shook his head and wandered off down the hallway, paying no attention to where he was going.

"Butters! Hey, Butters!"

Butters half turned, and saw Stan approaching him. Feeling suddenly panicky, he turned and ran away through the packed hallway. Maybe Stan had heard something about them. Even worse, maybe he knew.

"Butters, where are you going? Wait up!"

Butters ran as fast as his short legs would carry him, but it wasn't nearly fast enough. Stan, South Park High's star quarterback, had caught up with him within a few strides. He grabbed Butters' arm and pulled him around.

"Why'd you run off? Didn't you hear me calling?" he asked, annoyed.

Butters stared up at him, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

"Look, I just wanted to say that I know what you're doing with Wendy, and I – "

"Listen Stan, before you get mad, I definitely didn't say anything about Wendy being my girlfriend, and we definitely didn't nearly almost maybe kiss!" Butters babbled nervously. He looked at Stan's confused face, and realised too late that he'd made a terrible mistake. He plastered a scared grin on his face. "Um, what were you saying?"

Stan stared at him. "Huh? I was saying that I know you're tutoring Wendy, and I just wondered if she'd mentioned me at all?" He frowned. "What were _you _saying?"

"N-nothing! Nothing at all!" Butters extracted his arm from Stan's grip. "And, uh, no, Wendy hasn't mentioned you at all!" He pretended to check his watch. "Ooh, I gotta go! Bye Stan!" He ran off down the hallway without a backward glance.

Stan gazed after him, confused. Had Butters just said something about _kissing _Wendy? No, she couldn't, she _wouldn't_! He stared at the floor. If that was the case, why the hell had Butters been so nervous? The bell rang, startling him. He made his way to his next class, feeling deeply troubled.

One way or another, he was going to find out what the hell was going on.

**Blimey, I think this has to be the longest chapter I've ever written! Still, please review! **

**Chapter 6 up soon…**


	6. Chapter 6

**Girl Trouble**

**As usual, many thanks for all the ****reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying the story! **

**I don't own South Park, I just wish I did.**

**Chapter 6**

Kenny walked along a quiet street, kicking a stone in a disinterested way. He was glad to be out in the fresh air, away from Annie's overprotective dad, clean freak mum and bratty little sister. _Geez, I thought my family was bad enough!_ he thought, shaking his head. No wonder Annie had always been so…Kenny searched for the right word to describe her, but it eluded him. He was slowly beginning to realise how little he really knew about the girl whose (admittedly hot) body he was currently occupying. She may as well have been invisible to him.

Kenny kicked the stone again in anger. What was the point of feeling guilty now? It wouldn't solve his dilemma. He was sick of her family, her friends and, more importantly, he was sick of what the whole thing was doing to him. Every day that he spent in Annie's body, he felt as though he was losing a small part of himself. He sighed. If he wanted his life back, he had no choice but to go to Satan and plead his case, which was something he wasn't looking forward to.

Right now, however, he had a bigger problem to deal with, and its name was Stan.

He spied Stan's car parked a little way ahead of him and jogged up to it. He knocked on the passenger window, stamping his feet as the temperature dropped a little further.

Stan jumped at the sound and gazed at him curiously. He leant across and wound the window down, shivering as the cold air hit him. "Jesus Christ Kenny, I thought you were Wendy! What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question!" Kenny replied. He glanced across at Wendy's house and shook his head. "Are you gonna let me in or what?"

Stan wound the window up and unlocked the door. Kenny climbed in and warmed his cold hands against the car heater.

"How'd you know I was here?" Stan asked, gazing at the house, which was lit up with Christmas decorations.

"Kyle told me," Kenny replied. "I thought he was kidding at first, and then I remembered: Goths don't kid!" He turned to Stan, a worried expression on his face. "Seriously, though, what are you doing here?"

Stan took a deep breath. "Look, you're gonna think I'm paranoid, or crazy or something, but I think there's something going on between Wendy and Butters." He stared out of the window, trying to look at anything but Kenny, because he knew what his friend's reaction would be. The allegation sounded ridiculous to Stan, and he was the one making it. Realising he couldn't put it off any longer he turned to face Kenny, and, as expected, his Not So Super Best Friend's expression had changed to one of incredulity.

"What?" Kenny asked.

"I tried to speak to Butters at school today, and as soon as I mentioned Wendy, he got really freaked out!" Stan explained hurriedly.

"So! That doesn't mean anything!" Kenny exclaimed. "Butters gets freaked out by his own shadow!"

"No, it was different this time!" Stan persisted. "He actually said something about kissing her, or not kissing her…" He paused, trying to remember. "Whatever, it doesn't matter! He still said it!"

"So, let me get this straight," Kenny said, massaging his temples. "You think there's something going on between Butters and Wendy, based on something he may or may not have said!" He shook his head, causing his blonde curls to bounce gently. "What are you gonna do, Stan? Sit outside her house until you get some proof?"

Stan was quiet for a moment. "Okay then, genius, answer me this!" he said. "Why was he so nervous when I asked him about Wendy?"

"Because it's _Butters_!" Kenny shouted in frustration. "That's what he's like! And you know what; I don't blame him for being nervous! You've not exactly been Mr Reasonable lately!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're moody, you're on edge, you're angry, like, all the time!" Kenny said, ticking the list off on his fingers. "You're not exactly much fun to be around, Stan!"

"Yeah, I know and I hate it, but I can't help it!" Stan argued back. "I can't just switch off my feelings, no matter how hard I try!" He took a deep, calming breath. "Believe me, I wish it was that easy," he muttered.

The two boys sat in silence for a while, staring out of the windscreen. A little festive snow had begun to fall, coating the gardens like icing on a cake.

"How do you know he's even in there?" Kenny asked quietly.

"Because I saw him arrive, and he hasn't left yet."

"Dude, how long have you been here?" Kenny asked wearily.

"Dunno," Stan replied. "A few hours? Look, I know what you're thinking, okay," he said as Kenny opened his mouth to respond. "You think I'm crazy, right, and I probably am, but I gotta know what's going on. If Wendy and Butters are together, then she's rebounding from me, and rebounds are always a total train wreck! I just wanna save her from getting hurt again. Is that so bad?"

Kenny sighed. "No Stan, it's not. But I think I know why you're really doing this, and it has nothing to do with saving her from getting hurt."

"Okay then, doc!" Stan said impatiently. "Why am I doing this, then?"

"Because you feel guilty," Kenny said quietly. "You've realised how much pain you caused her when you cheated. But you also think that if you can stop her from seeing Butters – if there is anything going on – by making her think that you don't want her to get hurt, you'll look like the big hero and she might take you back. That's what this is all about."

"Wow!" Stan said sarcastically. "You've got no idea how wrong you are. And for the last time, I did not cheat on Wendy!"

"Oh, that's right, deny it again!" Kenny said loudly. "Why is it that guys think they can do that? What, you think we're stupid enough to fall for it every time!" Suddenly enraged, he leaned into towards a startled Stan. "Well guess what, buddy boy, we're not, and that's why Wendy dumped you, and that's why she won't take you back!"

He stared at Stan, who in turn was staring at him as though he'd turned the child from The Exorcist. Kenny wiped spittle carefully from the side of his mouth and sat back, feeling very confused and self conscious.

"Dude, what the hell was that?" Stan asked, shocked. "I thought you were on my side!"

"I was, I mean, I am!" Kenny protested. "I don't know where that came from!" He put his head in his perfectly manicured hands. "I don't know what's happening to me right now! I don't even feel like me any more!"

"Well, you are in a girl's body!" Stan said. He stared at him with increasing unease. Was Kenny _crying_?

"It's not just that," Kenny said, wiping his eyes. "I feel like I'm changing, and I don't know how to stop it!"

"How do you mean, you're changing?"

"It's just little things, y'know?" Kenny said. "Like today, I was watching _Bambi _with Annie's little sister, and I cried when Bambi's mom died. I actually cried. Dude, I never cry!" He burst into tears again.

Stan hunted around for some tissues, but all he could find was an oily rag he'd been using on the car. Kenny took it gratefully and blew his nose, staining his nostrils black in the process.

"It's like the last few days, I don't know, I've just been all over the place!" he said, sniffing loudly. "One minute I'm angry, the next I'm crying like a baby!"

"How do you know that's not just Annie coming through? I mean, if she's in there," Stan said. "Maybe she's all pissed off at you for possessing her and she's making you feel like crap on purpose!"

"I don't know if she's in here or not!" Kenny said miserably. "I don't know if I'm channelling her personality somehow, or if this is actually all me. All I do know is, this vagina is screwing with my head!"

The boys looked at each other and laughed, both patently aware of the ridiculousness of the situation, which was pretty big, even by South Park standards.

"Geez, and I thought I had problems!" Stan said, snorting with laughter.

"Dude, are you kidding me!" Kenny said, chuckling. "You're stalking your ex-girlfriend! You've got bigger problems than I ever will!" He threw the oily rag at Stan.

"I am not stalking her!" Stan said, throwing it back. "I'm just watching out for her!"

"No, you're _watching_ her!" Kenny said, stifling a girly giggle. "That's called stalking, Stan!" The grin disappeared from his face as a troubling thought occurred to him. "Dude, are we…_flirting_?"

Stan stared at him in horror. "Yeah, I think we are! That is so wrong! So wrong!"

The boys were saved from any more awkwardness by Wendy's front door opening.

"Dude, check it out!" Kenny said.

They watched as Wendy and Butters walked out into the snow, which had gotten considerably heavier. They appeared to be deep in conversation about something.

"Well, this is it!" Kenny said. "Here's where you get your proof."

*

"You didn't have to walk out with me, Wendy!" Butters said, as they walked down the drive together. "Why don't you go in? You'll catch your death of cold!"

"I wanted to go out with you, I mean, _walk _out with you!" Wendy said, cursing the little slip of the tongue. "I've got some stuff I wanna say, and I didn't feel comfortable saying it in front of my parents!"

"I know how you feel," Butters said, nodding. "I don't like saying stuff in front of my parents, either. But that's because they always tell me to go to my room."

"Yeah," Wendy said uncomfortably. She pulled her coat around her more tightly. "Look, I just wanted to say that I've really enjoyed tonight, I've really learnt a lot, and I didn't want you to think that I was leading you on after what nearly happened the other night."

Butters frowned. "Um, okay."

"It's just, you've been a really good friend to me, and I don't wanna spoil that."

"Me neither!"

"So, we're cool?" Wendy asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we're cool!"

"Great!" Wendy moved closer and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. Butters, surprised by the sudden show of affection, let his arms hang at his sides for a moment, before slipping them around Wendy's waist. When they pulled out of the hug, Butters' face was flame red.

"Yeah, well, I gotta…" he mumbled, staring at the snow.

"Yeah, you'd better, uh…" Wendy waved her hand wordlessly towards the street.

Butters wandered off, his eyes still on the snow. As she watched him go, Wendy began to wonder if she'd made the second biggest mistake of their friendship.

*

"Did you see that? They hugged!"

"Dude, get down! She's looking over here!" Kenny grabbed Stan by the shoulder and tried to drag him down in his seat.

"I don't care if she sees me!"

"Yes, you do."

Both boys sat bunched down in their seats, staring at the car roof.

"Can we sit up yet? I'm getting cramp here!" Stan said irritably.

Kenny sat up slightly and peered out through his window. "Yeah, its okay, she's gone in. She's probably gonna call the cops now!"

Stan sat up again. "I don't care! Dude, they _hugged_!"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Kenny exclaimed in frustration. "Girls hug everyone they like! They hug each other all the time! And kiss."

"Really? They kiss?" Stan asked, intrigued.

"Yeah. It's like casual lesbianism." Kenny looked across at him. "Listen Stan, I really don't think you've got anything to worry about! It was just a friendly hug, that's all!"

"Maybe I am overreacting a little," Stan admitted.

"Dude, you went past overreacting when you decided to stalk her!" Kenny said caustically.

"Alright, I get the message!" Stan said. He gunned the engine. "You sure I shouldn't be worried?"

Kenny sighed. "Trust me; nothing is gonna happen between Wendy and Butters, okay!"

**Hmm, or is it, I wonder…**

**Chapter 7 up soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, first up, apologies for the long wait between updates, but with the holidays and everything, well you know what it's like! As usual, thanks to all readers and reviewers.**

**Quite a lot of people don't seem to like the idea of a Wendy/Butters pairing - oh man, are you gonna hate me fairly soon! **

**Chapter 7**

Should I? Shouldn't I?

Butters stood at the bottom of Wendy's driveway, considering these questions. He put one foot on the drive, which sank into the snow. He stood, staring at Wendy's house while the cold wetness of the snow seeped through his Converses. He shook his head and stepped back, cursing his numb foot.

He had saved Imaginationland, won a dance-off against Orange County (by accidentally killing them) and tried to destroy the world on countless occasions as Professor Chaos, and yet, he couldn't ask a girl to walk to school with him. Why was everything so fucking hard?

He took a deep breath, threw his shoulders back and walked up the drive. He had barely gotten halfway when the front door opened and Wendy came out, virtually unrecognisable underneath a big woolly hat and scarf. She pulled her phone out of her bag and shouted goodbye to her parents.

Butters stopped in his tracks and stared at her. His new found confidence deserted him and he looked around for somewhere to hide. With no obvious hiding places in sight, he turned around, shoved his gloved hands into his pockets and walked quickly back towards the path, hoping that he could reach it without her se –

"Leo!" He turned, a rictus grin frozen on his face as Wendy jogged awkwardly up the drive to join him. "What are you doing here? Are you looking for me?"

"Yeah, I mean no, I mean, uh, I wasn't looking for anyone really…oh hamburgers!" Why did he turn into such a retard around her?

Wendy stared at him, half amused, half perplexed. "Okaaay. Well, I gotta go, so…" She stepped around him.

"Can I walk you to school?" he asked quickly. "I mean, can I walk _with_ you to school?"

Wendy stopped. "Did you come all the way over here just to ask me that?"

Butters' eyes dropped to the snow. "Kinda."

"That's really sweet, Leo! I was gonna try and catch a ride with Bebe – no way I'm driving in this – but then I guess nobody else will be, either." She looked around at the snow, which had almost buried the town overnight. "Meh, why not? Walking is better for the environment, anyway!"

"I guess," Butters said to the snow.

Wendy walked a little way, and then realised that Butters wasn't with her. "Are you coming already?" she called back to him. "It's freaking freezing!"

"Yeah." He walked after her, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

They walked in silence for a while, Butters occasionally looking across at Wendy. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, but ended up looking back at the snow again.

"Are you okay, Leo?" Wendy asked, after about five minutes of this.

"Fine." Once again, the reply was addressed to the snow.

"It's just, I'm getting the feeling that you're not," Wendy said patiently. "You keep looking at me, and it's kinda weirding me out. Have you got something you wanna say to me?"

Butters swallowed hard. "N-nope!"

"Oh come on, Leo, I know you. Sorta."

Butters took a deep breath. "Do you feel sorry for me?" he blurted out.

Wendy stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"Do you feel sorry for me?" Butters asked again. "Is that why you're being nice to me?"

"What are you talking about?" Wendy asked, feeling caught off guard by his question. "No, of course I don't feel sorry for you! Why would you think that?"

"I'm not stupid, Wendy!" Butters said, his voice hard. "Well, okay, I am a bit stupid, but I'm not _stupid _stupid!"

Wendy shook her head in confusion. "Okay!"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since the other night, Wendy," he went on. "Something's changed. You're being different around me, and I think I know why. You're embarrassed by me, that's why you didn't tell anyone I was tutoring you in the first place!"

"No, that's not true!" Wendy spluttered. She looked away as Butters stared at her. "Well, okay, maybe it was at first! But then I got to know you, and it makes me feel awful that I ever thought that way about you!"

"What about the other night?" Butters asked quietly.

"It was a mistake," Wendy said gently. "It's still too soon after Stan for me to even think about dating another guy. I'm really sorry if I led you on."

Butters smiled sadly. "Yeah well, I guess I should be used to it by now."

"What do you mean?"

"Being a loser," he replied dolefully. "My parents tell me to stop being gay and get a girlfriend! But I'm not gay – I like girls! They just don't like me."

"I like you," Wendy said softly.

Butters gazed up at her, his blue eyes swimming with hope. "You do?"

"Yes, I do."

He smiled again, a happy one this time. "That's cool, cos I like you too."

Then, in a very unButters-like way, he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on a surprised Wendy's lips. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, he pulled back and smiled shyly.

"Okay, shall we go?"

Wendy's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish gasping for air. She stared at him for a long time, before realising he was waiting for an answer. "Okay, I guess…"

"Good." He crooked his arm and offered it to her. She took it slowly, still reeling from what had just happened. "Let's go to school!" he said cheerily.

He chattered as they walked, but Wendy didn't take in any of it. Instead she replayed the previous few minutes in her mind over and over, trying to work out what she had said to make him kiss her. But then another, more important question occurred to her.

What the hell was she going to do about it?

*

"Kyle? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

No response. Kenny glared at the back of his friend's head. He would rather be inside the warm cafeteria with everybody else than outside with the stupid Goths, but he needed to talk to Kyle. The Goths were sitting in their usual place on the steps, listening to their crappy Cure inspired music. They stared ahead, nodding along to the music. Kyle sat with his arm casually slung around Henrietta's shoulders, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"Kyle!" Kenny barked at his motionless friend.

Kyle snapped out of his musically induced coma and turned, spitting out the cigarette. "Oh hey dude! What's up?"

"I need to talk to you!" Kenny growled.

"'Bout what?"

Kenny looked around at the other Goths. "Can we talk inside? I'm freezing my balls off out here." The Goths stared at him with forced apathy. Kindergoth looked him up and down curiously. "Hypothetically speaking, obviously!" Kenny added, rolling his eyes.

"Is this about…?" Kyle indicated Kenny's new female form. He nodded. "Oh it is? Okay, I'll be right back, guys!"

"Don't hurry yourself, sweetheart!" the curly haired Goth, Pagan muttered just loud enough for Kyle to hear. He flipped his fellow Goth off as he followed Kenny into the cafeteria.

"Trouble in purgatory?" Kenny asked as they weaved their way through the crowded cafeteria to Stan and Cartman, who were sitting at their usual table.

Kyle snorted. "That Pagan guy doesn't like me!" he replied. "He thinks I'm a faker!"

Kenny smiled at him sympathetically. Truth be told, he and Stan had been harbouring their own doubts about Kyle's sudden conversion.

They joined Stan and Cartman, Kenny ignoring the girls' inquisitive stares.

"What's this about, anyway?" Kyle asked.

"You tell him!" Stan said to Kenny. "I still say it's a stupid idea!"

"Okay, so I figure that the only way I'm gonna get out of this is if I can talk to Satan," Kenny explained to Kyle. "Maybe if I apologise enough, he'll reverse whatever the hell he's done."

"What did you do?" Stan asked. "You've never actually told us."

"That's not important right now," Kenny said. "The main thing is that I get back into my own body."

"I don't get what you need us for!" Cartman said through a mouthful of pizza. "Why don't you just throw yourself off a bridge or something?"

"I can't do that, Cartman!" Kenny snapped. "I'll die!"

"So? You'll come back!"

"Yeah, _I'll _come back. Annie won't!"

"Oh!" Cartman said, suddenly seeing the flaw in his plan.

Kenny rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the other two. "There are only two ways to make contact with Satan," he explained. "One is death; the other is a ritual – which is where you guys come in." He paused, feeling uncomfortable. "I could do it by myself, but it's kind of, uh…

"What?" Kyle asked, alarmed. "Dangerous? Scary?"

"Gross!" Kenny replied. "It's really, really gross. It involves blood and, um, stuff."

"Since when were you bothered about blood?" Cartman asked incredulously. "You're the one that made us sit through all six Saw films!"

"I don't know!" Kenny cried. "I just am!"

"Why are you doing it, then, if it grosses you out so much?" Stan asked. "Why don't you just ask Damien to speak to his dad for you?"

"Because Damien isn't talking to his dad right now!" Kenny replied. "They had a big falling out because Satan wanted Damien to succeed him in Hell, but Damien wanted to go to art college!"

"Fag!" Cartman said, sniggering.

"Look, we're getting away from the point!" Kenny said testily. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"No fucking way!" Stan exclaimed loudly.

"Ah, come on!" Kenny whined.

"I don't think he's talking about that, Ken!" Kyle said. "I think he's talking about _that_!" He pointed over Kenny's shoulder.

Kenny looked in the direction of Kyle's finger, and saw Butters talking to Wendy. Her friends were sitting in stunned silence. "Oh for God's sake, not this again!" he said in frustration. "Stan, I told you, there's nothing going on between Butters and Wendy!"

"If that's true, why the fuck did he just kiss her?" Stan asked, his cheeks reddening with anger.

"He did what?!" Kenny turned around again. Both the boys and girls watched in stunned silence as Wendy quickly grabbed Butters' hand and led him to the only unoccupied table in the cafeteria.

"I gotta go over there!" Stan said urgently.

Kenny watched Wendy and Butters with interest. Their heads were bent close together and Wendy was doing most of the talking, gesticulating frantically as though trying to get a very important point across.

"No, Stan, I don't think you should do that!" he said cautiously.

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't know!" Kenny said, scratching his chin. "All I know is my female spidey senses are telling me that you should leave well alone!"

"Whatever!" Stan clambered over Cartman, getting a mouthful of abuse as he knocked the fatass's drink over. He walked across the cafeteria towards Wendy and Butters like a cowboy heading for a duel. "Wendy?"

They looked up at him. Wendy rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Stan?"

"What's going on?"

"None of your business!"

"I just…" Stan paused and took a deep breath, unable to believe what he was about to say. "Are and Butters, y'know, a…couple?"

"I refer you to my previous answer, Stan!"

Stan's eyes widened. "So what are you saying? You are?"

Wendy sighed with frustration. "What part of my last two answers do you not understand, Stan?"

"I-I'm just really worried about you, Wend, that's all!" Stan pleaded. "I know now that you were really hurt when we broke up, but don't you think it's a little soon to be getting involved in another relationship?"

"What makes you think that Butters and I are together?"

"I saw you two together last night and then just now – "

"Wait, last night?" Wendy cut in, frowning. "That was you? I thought I saw your car, but I dismissed it. No, Stan wouldn't do anything like that, _you _said!" She directed the last remark at Bebe, who shrugged.

Stan swallowed hard. "I can explain – "

"Explain what?" Wendy shouted, attracting the attention of most of the cafeteria. "Why you were spying on me? I didn't think you'd do something like that, but then last week, I didn't think I'd catch you making out with some slut from Raisins!"

"Raisins? What?" Stan shook his head. This wasn't getting them anywhere. "Look, I was just worried about you. I don't want you to make a mistake you'll regret, okay?"

"The only mistake I ever made was dating you!" Wendy snapped to whoops from most of the female students. "You don't own me, Stan! It's none of your business what I do any more! But if you really wanna know, then yeah, Leo and I are dating!" She looked around defiantly as the entire cafeteria fell silent. The only sound came from Clyde dropping his fork in shock. "In fact, we were just about to go public, weren't we, honey?"

Butters stared at her, confused. "But I thought you said – "he began.

"Shut up, honey!" Wendy said through gritted teeth.

Stan looked at his friends, too stunned to even speak. Kyle and Kenny's faces were mirror images of his own, while Cartman looked horrified.

"Wow!" Butters said, a huge smile breaking across his face. "I don't believe it! I've got a girlfriend! I've got a girlfriend, everybody!" He took Wendy's hand and held it up like a winning boxer.

Wendy watched Stan walk back to his seat, feeling mometarily pleased with herself. But the pleasure turned to horror as she looked back at the delighted Butters and realised what she had just done.

Excusing herself, she ran to the toilets and locked herself in a cubicle. _Oh Jesus, now what do I do?_

She sank down onto the toilet and jammed her fist into her mouth.

**I'm gonna leave Wendy and Butters for a bit**** now, since I've been concentrating on them a lot recently, but there's more to come from them!**

**Chapter 8 up soon…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, first off, apologies for the long wait between updates and thanks to all readers and reviewers…I promise to try and be quicker**** from now on! Now get reading!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 8**

Kenny got out of Stan's car and shivered in the icy cold wind. He peered through the wrought iron gates of South Park Cemetery and wondered, not for the first time, whether the ritual was a good idea. _No, it's the worst idea I've had since the Krazy Kenny Show, but it's the only one I've got right now. I've got to do this, not just for me, but for Annie as well. But mainly for me._

Kenny was worried about how well he was adapting to life as a girl. He had started to recognise all the latest fashion trends and he was now able to apply makeup without ending up looking like Amy Winehouse after a night on the booze. He had dismissed all this at first, convincing himself that it was all part of his plan to masquerade as Annie, but it was that very morning, while he had been looking at a foundation palette, trying to work out which shade best suited his skin tone, that it had hit him. He was turning into a girl.

Every time Kenny had had any kind of doubt since then, his mind had taken him back to that moment – sitting in front of the mirror with a makeup brush poised in his hand, the sheer horror of the moment etched on his face. No, he had to do this, or risk losing himself forever.

He walked purposefully round the back of Stan's car and opened the boot. He reached inside and took out a cardboard box, which he handed to Cartman, and then reached in for another, which was heavier. He grunted with effort as he handed it to Stan, then he shut the boot and exhaled deeply, his breath becoming steam as it hit the cold air.

Cartman peered inside his box and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Why do I get the blood?"

"That's just the way it came out, Cartman."

"Did we really have to go to the abattoir?" Stan complained. "You guys know how I feel about that place!"

"Yeah, we know!" Cartman said crossly. "You bored us with your stupid pussy hippie views all the way there, and all the way back, Stan!"

"All I'm saying is, why did we have to go _there_?" Stan asked, glaring at Cartman. "I mean, I've seen enough horror movies. Don't we need human blood for something like this?" He paused and shook his head. "Jesus, why am I even asking that question?"

"Animal blood, human blood, it doesn't really matter," Kenny replied. "When it comes to something like this, all you need is blood."

"That Abe guy was _weird_," Stan said, frowning.

"Yeah, well, you try working in a slaughterhouse for thirty years and see how you feel!" Kenny said.

"We wouldn't have had to go all the way out there if you two pussies had gone with _my_ plan!" Cartman said sniffily.

"We were not going to kill a homeless person, fatass!" Stan snapped at him.

"Why? It's a victimless crime!" Cartman whined. "It's not like anyone'd miss one homeless person. There's too many of 'em anyway!"

Stan massaged his forehead. "Cartman just…shut up!" He looked at the cemetery. A large full moon beamed down from the cloudless night sky, giving the graveyard an almost ethereal glow. He shivered, in spite of himself. "Shouldn't Kyle be here by now?"

Kenny unzipped a smart little black handbag (an absolute bargain he'd spotted in Target) and got out a small torch which he shone on his watch. "We're okay. It isn't midnight yet." He looked at his two friends, who looked increasingly uncomfortable holding their boxes. "We might as well get the stuff ready, though."

He pushed open one of the gates apprehensively, which gave a loud, ominous creak as a welcome. He looked back at the others nervously.

"Wow, that wasn't creepy at all!" Cartman said, his voice tight with tension.

Kenny took a deep breath and flicked his torch on again. The small, powerful beam lit up the pathway that led through the cemetery. Gravestones spread in both directions either side, some so old and worn that the inscriptions had disappeared. Kenny led the way along the path, shining the torch this way and that, looking for the perfect place to set up the ritual. Eventually the beam alighted on an old stone tomb in the middle of the graveyard. Kenny made his way towards it, whispering an apology whenever he inadvertently stepped on a grave. Stan and Cartman followed him, keeping close together.

Kenny brushed snow off the top of the tomb and smiled. "Perfect!"

"Yeah, if you say so!" Stan said, exchanging glances with Cartman.

Kenny reached into Stan's box and got out a black cloth, which he spread across the top of the tomb. Next came four black candles, a collection of runes and some ancient looking bones, all of which he placed carefully on the cloth. Stan looked at the dark altar with increasing unease.

"We don't wanna know where you got any of this stuff, do we?" he asked nervously.

"Nope."

Kenny reached into Stan's box one last time and got out the last item, a large silver goblet with strange animalistic carvings on the side. He put it in the middle of the altar and stood back, looking at it thoughtfully.

"Dude, this is whacked out, even for us!" Stan said, shaking his head.

"Okay, I think we're ready!" Kenny said. "All we need now is – "

He was interrupted by the sight of a torch beam making its way towards them. They waited as it stopped and shone on them, then they could make out a figure walking slowly towards them.

"– Kyle!" Kenny finished his aborted sentence.

"Hey guys!" Kyle greeted them, his voice muffled behind a black scarf that covered most of his face. He winced and put a gloved hand up to his face.

"Are you okay, dude?" Stan asked.

Before Kyle could answer, Kenny raised a hand.

"It's midnight," he said, his voice low and sombre. "It's time, guys."

He took a lighter out of his coat pocket and lit each of the candles, handing two to Kyle and the other two to Cartman, who was forced to manoeuvre the blood box under his arm. Kenny took the box off him and placed it in the snow in front of him. He took out the two blood bags, holding them as loosely as possible.

"Dude, this is gross!" he muttered under his breath.

"It was your stupid idea!" Stan hissed back.

"Hold these!" Kenny thrust the blood bags towards him. Stan took them reluctantly, a grossed out look on his face.

Kenny reached into his handbag again and took out the torch and a folded up piece of paper. As he shone the torch on it, Stan could see that there were two verses of what looked like Latin written on it.

"Okay, you can pour the blood into the goblet now!" Kenny told him.

"Me!" Stan's cry caused an owl to take flight from a nearby tree. He lowered his voice again. "Why me?"

"Dude, I can't do it! I had a manicure today! Do you have any idea how much these nails cost?" Kenny waggled his freshly manicured fingers in Stan's face.

Stan gave an angry sigh. Oh well, if it meant he didn't have to hold the blood anymore…He undid one of the bags and poured it into the goblet, muttering something that included the words "fucking" and "manicure" as he did so.

"Do the same with the other bag!" Kenny instructed. "And try not to spill any!"

Stan shot him a look that could only be described as murderous, and poured in the contents of the other bag.

"Now what?" he asked impatiently.

"Now you gotta stick your finger in there and stir the blood up, while I read this," Kenny said, holding up the piece of paper.

"Dude! I'm not sticking my finger in there!" Stan said, horrified.

"I hear that's what he used to say to Wendy!" Cartman said with a snigger.

The others ignored him.

"Yeah, dude, that's just sick!" Kyle said. He winced again.

"You do it!" Stan said, thrusting the goblet towards Kenny.

"Hel-lo, manicure!"

Stan's face screwed up with anger. He knew what he should do. He should grow a fucking spine, tell Kenny he didn't want any part of this and then get the fuck out of there. Somehow though, he knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Alright, fine!" he snapped. "I'll do it! But you owe me big for this one, Kenny!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Stan shut his eyes and slowly lowered his index finger into the goblet. To his disgust, the blood was still warm. He twirled his finger gently, trying not to think about all the poor cows that had unwittingly donated their blood for this little exercise. Beside him, Kenny began to read from the paper in a strange throaty sort of voice. Cartman and Kyle watched him, half scared, half intrigued.

The temperature suddenly began to plummet, as though something was sucking what little warmth there was out of the area. Stan shivered. The cold seemed to be entering him, racing through his body, turning the blood in his veins to ice…

Kenny's teeth chattered as he struggled through the final few lines. He looked across at his friends. Stan was shaking violently, while Cartman and Kyle were rooted to the spot, staring at nothing. A gust of wind threatened the flames on the candles, but did not blow them out.

The blood in the goblet had taken on a life of its own. It was whirling around, faster and faster, taking on a whirlpool effect. Kenny gently removed Stan's finger and held his friend tightly, trying to stop the shaking.

"I'm s-sorry, Stan!" Kenny muttered. His voice came out with difficulty, as the cold gripped his heart. "Just hold on, buddy!"

He looked into the goblet. Energy zig zagged around inside it, becoming stronger and more powerful with each passing second, and then there was a crackling sound like a dying firework and a big flash of light. Kenny shut his eyes.

There was a bang.

He felt Stan go limp in his arms. Kenny opened his eyes. Thick black smoke billowed up in front of them, obscuring what little he could see.

"Wha-what happened?" he heard Kyle ask.

Kenny struggled under Stan's dead weight.

"Little help here?" he called.

Kyle and a dazed looking Cartman put their candles down and hurried over. They took hold of the unconscious Stan gently and laid him down on the grass.

"I'm really sorry, Stan," Kenny said quietly, tears in his eyes. "I should've warned you. I'm so sorry."

"Warned him about what?" Kyle demanded. "What's wrong with him, Kenny?"

As Kenny went to answer, there was a sound of someone coughing, and a large red clawed hand pushed the smoke away. The three boys looked up at the emerging figure. Kyle gasped, and Cartman gulped and took a step back. He knew a badass when he saw one, and this was the biggest badass of them all.

Satan was in town.

**And that's the end of chapter 8. I'm sorry, but I just love to leave you hanging! **

**In case you're wondering, I borrowed (ahem) a lot from Supernatural for the ritual, partly because it was all I could come up with, and partly because it gave me an excuse to think about Jensen Ackles. Now I'm off for a cold shower!**

**Chapter 9 up soon…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Girl Trouble**

**Thanks to all readers, reviewers and anyone who's favourited/alerted this fic. I haven't written Satan before, so hopefully he's in character, but I'm sure you'll let me know if he isn't!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 9**

"Who dares to bring me here!" Satan roared, turning to face them. Then he spotted Kenny. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah, I brought you here," Kenny replied. "Well, _we _did."

"Will someone please tell me what's wrong with Stan?" Kyle asked urgently. "He won't wake up!"

"It's the ritual," Kenny said, without turning round. "It can do that to people. Some react okay to it and some…don't. Stan's okay – he just needs to sleep it off."

"That's what you get for playing with dark magic, vampire," Satan said to Kyle.

"I am not a frickin' vampire!" Kyle snapped. "I'm a Goth!"

Satan grinned. "Sure you are." He turned back to Kenny. "So, why have you brought me here? This is very inconvenient, you know. I'm seeing Kevin tonight."

"Kevin?" Cartman muttered.

"New boyfriend," Kenny answered.

Cartman nodded and swallowed back the insult that he desperately wanted to utter. He had always known he was going to Hell eventually; he just wasn't ready to go there quite yet.

"I – we – brought you here because I need to talk to you," Kenny was saying.

"Oh, really?" Satan said, casually examining his talons. "About what, exactly?"

"I think you know!" Kenny said through gritted teeth.

Satan grinned widely as he looked at Kenny's furious, heavily made up face.

"Is this about your unfortunate sex change?"

"Yeah, my _unfortunate _sex change!" Kenny said sarcastically. "You gotta change me back, dude!"

"Sorry, can't."

"Why the fuck not?"

Satan sighed. "Because this is about more than just my revenge now," he said. "This is about, oh, what was it…?" He clicked his fingers, trying to recall something, "life lessons, or some crap."

"Life lessons?!" Kenny repeated, staring at him. "Why the hell do you care about that?"

"I don't normally," Satan admitted. "I was gonna let you stew for a few days and then put you back in your body, but there was a request from higher up." He raised his eyes to the dark night sky. "I wouldn't listen to them usually, but, watching you suffering in high heels has been fun. Ask anyone in Hell."

Kenny shut his eyes. "So, what does this mean?"

"It means that you have to learn your lesson," Satan replied. "Do that and you'll go back to your own body."

"What lesson?" Kenny asked, shaking his head.

"The hell should I know?" Satan said indifferently. "That's for you to figure out."

"But how am I supposed to learn something if I don't know what I'm supposed to be learning?"

Satan sighed again. "Look kid, I've come here and I've answered your questions, now I have to go. Kevin's waiting."

He turned away. Kenny breathed deeply, trying to keep his temper under control. He was normally a very patient person, but lately, his temper had been shorter than a dwarf's wedding tackle.

"Don't you fucking dare!" he shouted at Satan. "You're not going anywhere until you put me back in my body!"

"And just how are you planning to stop me from leaving?" Satan asked sarcastically. "I can go any time I want, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Kenny glared up at him. Satan was at least 8 feet tall, compared to his 5"1", so a rugby tackle was out of the question. Kenny looked at his friends, who were looking at the Prince of Darkness with a mixture of fear and admiration, and deduced that they weren't going to be any help. He turned back to Satan.

"Just let me go back," he said. He was mortified to feel tears running down his cheeks. "Please!"

Satan sighed deeply. "I'm sorry," he said gently. "But like I said, it's out of my hands now."

"GODDAMIT YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE YOU SEND ME BACK RIGHT NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"

For a moment, Satan was taken aback by the force of Kenny's anger. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Aww, is someone feeling a little pre-menstrual?" he asked patronisingly.

"I AM NOT FUCKING PRE-MENSTRUAL! I'M FUCKING ANGRY!" Kenny paused, suddenly horribly aware that he was screaming. Screaming like a girl. He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. He didn't want to know what his face looked like. "I am just sick and tired of this body, of living this girl's life," he continued in a more normal voice. "This girl that I don't even know! I just want my own life back. Is that too much to ask?"

Satan looked at him, his expression almost sympathetic. "I understand that," he said. "But maybe you should've thought about that before you cheated me at poker!"

"Wait, that's why you've done this?" Kyle asked, his tone sceptical. "You've ruined Kenny's whole life because he cheated you out of a few dollars?"

"Not dollars, no," Satan said in a hard voice.

"Huh?" Kyle looked from one to the other, confused.

Kenny sighed. "In Hell, when we play poker - or any other game - we don't play

for money. It's got no meaning down there and it's not like there's a frickin' gift shop!"

"Money doesn't have meaning?" Cartman asked disparagingly. He snorted. "What kind of gayass place is that?"

He recoiled as Satan glared at him. "Kidding, kidding!" he said quickly.

"I'm probably gonna regret asking this," Kyle said slowly, "but if you don't play for money, what do you play for?"

Kenny glanced at Satan. "Souls," he said quietly.

"Souls?!" Kyle repeated in disbelief.

"Yeah," Kenny said. "The game is pretty much the same; it's just got a different outcome. If he wins," he nodded towards Satan, "then he gets to keep the souls and do…whatever. But if any other player wins, they're in control and they get to decide what happens."

"And you won," Kyle said.

"Yep. And for the record, I didn't cheat. My dad taught me to play – he's an awesome player, when he's not drunk. That's the only reason we manage to pay our rent every month!"

"So what did you decide to do?"

"Please tell me you decided to keep them," Cartman said. "Dude, you could have your own soul army!"

"No, I didn't keep them, fatass!" Kenny said crossly. "I let them go, and he didn't like it. That's why he did this to me. It has nothing to do with my supposed cheating!"

He gazed at Satan, who glared back.

"You let them go!" Cartman scoffed. "Pussy!"

"I warned you about the consequences!" Satan said, narrowing his yellow eyes.

Kenny shook his head. "You always were a bad loser!"

"So where does this leave us?" Kyle asked. "You can't seriously keep him in there now we know the truth!"

"The situation hasn't changed," Satan said emphatically. "Only he can get himself out of that body. I may have lied about a few things, but I wasn't lying about that!"

"You still haven't told me how!"

"Figure it out, kid!" Satan said nastily. "Use your brain for once!"

"But – "

Satan held up a giant hand to cut him off.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due back downstairs!" he said. "The place'll have gone to rack and ruin without me!"

Smoke began to curve around his body, obscuring him from the boys' view.

"Goodbye Kenny!" he called. "Learn your lesson!" He popped his head out through the smoke. "I'll be seeing you!" he added.

But he wasn't looking at Kenny. He was looking at Cartman.

Cartman backed away, catching his foot on a gravestone. He fell backwards and landed on his bum in the snow. Satan sniggered. He waved his hand, there was a flash of light, and when the boys looked again, he was gone. A patch of burnt grass marked the spot where he had stood.

"Well that was a big waste of time!" Kenny said, after a moment's silence.

Kyle shrugged. He started as someone groaned.

"Stan!"

Kyle and Kenny rushed over to their friend, who gazed up at them blearily.

"Wha' happened?"

"You missed Satan," Kenny told him. "Apart from that, you didn't miss much at all!"

"I missed Satan?" Stan asked, as his friends helped him to his feet. He looked at Kenny. "So how come you're still a chick?"

"Long story," Kenny replied. "We'll tell you on the way home. Come on."

He and Kyle each took one of Stan's arms and placed it around their shoulders. They walked their groggy friend back through the graveyard, keeping a firm grip on him to stop him falling. Cartman followed, brushing snow off his butt. They had almost reached the gate when Kenny realised something.

"Aww shit, I forgot about the altar!" He glanced at Kyle. "Can you manage him while I run back and sort it out?"

"Sure."

He ran back through the dark graveyard to the makeshift altar and threw everything untidily into one of the boxes. He looked at the blood in the goblet and, after a moment's thought, tipped it out into the snow. The inside of the goblet was stained dark red. Kenny shuddered. He was going to have to wash it before he returned it to the church.

He was relieved to get back to the car and into the warm. Kyle had put the heating up to full power. Stan was in no fit state to drive, so he was in the back with Cartman.

"Everybody okay?" Kenny asked. He noticed Cartman's expression in the rearview mirror. The fatass looked almost…scared. "Cartman?"

"He said he'd be seeing me," Cartman said slowly. "Satan's coming for me, isn't he? I'm going to die."

"Relax Cartman," Kenny said. "He says that to everyone. He likes screwing with people's heads."

"Was he just screwing around though?" Kyle asked in a low voice. "You can tell me, Ken. I promise not to laugh. Too hard."

"Just drive, dumbass!"

Kyle grinned and gunned the engine.

"Never mind, Cartman!" he said, a wicked look on his face. "Even if it is true, I'm sure you'll be fine down there. I hear Satan takes _special_ care of all his bitches!"

Kyle and Kenny both snorted with laughter. Even Stan managed to raise a smile.

"Ai!" Cartman shouted. "Shut up, you fucking Jewfag!"

"Don't call me a Jewfag, you fucking fatass!"

Kenny sat back and closed his eyes, letting Cartman and Kyle's bickering wash over him. After one of the weirdest nights of his life, it was good to get back to normal. He opened his eyes and looked down at his female body.

Well, almost normal.

**That's the end of the, erm, freaky part of the story. But rest assured, things are about to get a lot more unpleasant for Kenny!**

**Chapter 10 up soon…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Girl Trouble**

**First up, apologies. I know it's been a while since my last update, but this chapter's been giving me a lot of trouble. Thanks to everybody who has read and reviewed so far.**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 10**

Kenny awoke the next morning and looked, bleary eyed, at the pink bedroom. It took him a few moments to realise where he was.

He'd been having a lovely dream about being back in his old body. He'd been walking around South Park in his old orange parka, scummy jeans and the secondhand trainers that never really fitted him, no matter how many pairs of socks he wore. Kenny smiled dreamily. Okay, so it hadn't been that exciting, but he'd felt safe, like he always did when he pulled his hood up and cut himself off from the rest of the world.

The dream had ended rather abruptly, with him being hit by a car. He frowned. A Toyota, was it? It didn't really matter, whatever it was – it was only a dream. He sighed as he got out of bed. How long had it been since his last death? Two or three weeks at least, it had to be. He couldn't remember ever living so long – there was a time when he used to die every week, way back in the fourth grade. Way back, when he'd been Kenny.

He paused, a small bottle of moisturiser in his hand. _No wait. I'm still Kenny! I am Kenny, I am Kenny, I am Kenny._ He repeated the thought in his head like a mantra, willing it to be true, knowing it to be true, but when he looked in the mirror, the face that stared back at him told him a different story.

Annie's mobile phone rang, distracting him from his identity crisis. He turned away, ignoring Miley Cyrus as she sang about some party in the USA. It wasn't just the faggy choice of ringtone that bothered him; he just didn't want to talk to anyone. Miley was cut off in midflow as the phone went to voicemail. Kenny sighed. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?

He reached into the handbag for the offending phone and checked the caller ID – one missed call from Bebe. Once upon a time he would have been thrilled if Bebe had called him, now the thought annoyed him. She was probably only calling to pass on some gossip that she thought Annie would be desperate to hear about, but Kenny couldn't be bothered with it, or Bebe. He couldn't be bothered with anyone right now.

He chucked the phone on to the dressing table and got back into bed, pulling the pink covers over his head.

"Annie, honey, breakfast's ready!" Annie's mom called from somewhere downstairs.

"Just leave me the fuck alone!" Kenny muttered into the pillow.

Five blissful minutes went past and then…

"Annie! Are you ever moving?" Annie's dad shouted. A short pause, then: "Don't make me come up there!"

Kenny groaned and put the pillow over his head.

*

Wendy normally loved weekends. They were a chance for her to skip homework, catch up with friends and watch crap TV. This weekend, however was different. This weekend she wanted to be over, even though it had barely begun.

She sat at the kitchen table, picking at a waffle, as her parents chatted next to her. The phone rang, and she jumped. She held her breath as her father got up to answer it.

"Oh, Lizzy, hey!"

Wendy relaxed. It was only Auntie Lizzy, thank goodness. For a moment there she'd thought it might've been…

"Are you okay, Wendy?"

She looked over at her mother, who was gazing at her with a concerned expression on her face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" she replied quickly. "What are you and dad up to today?"

"Uh, nothing much," her mother said, clearly puzzled at her daughter's sudden interest in her parents lives. "We thought we might spend the morning clearing the snow away, and then go shopping this afternoon."

"I'll go with you!"

Mrs Testaburger stared at her daughter as though she'd just grown two heads. Wendy sipped her coffee and tried not to look self conscious. Previously, the thought of hanging out with her parents would have brought her out in hives, but today it seemed like her best option, particularly if she wanted to avoid seeing _him_.

"Well, okay, if you want to," Mrs Testaburger said uncertainly. "It's just, well; I thought you'd be seeing your new boyfriend today."

Wendy pushed her half eaten waffle away. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, I bet you haven't had much chance to see him, what with school, and your tutoring sessions with Butters," her mother said, oblivious to Wendy's cringing. "I thought you'd be looking forward to seeing him."

"We don't live in each others pockets, mom!" Wendy snapped.

"Okay!" Mrs Testaburger said in a hurt tone of voice. "No need to bite my head off!"

Wendy sighed. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," Mrs Testaburger said. She began clearing up the breakfast things. "It's your life; it's none of my business." She paused in the cleanup, and glanced at Wendy. "He does seem very keen on you though," she said slowly, as though testing the water. "All those flowers he keeps sending you!" She shook her head in admiration.

Wendy rolled her eyes. Butters had sent her some many flowers that her bedroom was starting to resemble Kew Gardens. He didn't seem to have much luck with them, though: all the flowers he'd sent were either dying or in various states of decay. Clearly Butters was an "it's the thought that counts" kind of guy.

"…and we haven't met him!" Wendy's mum was saying, when she tuned back in. "You haven't even told us his name!"

"It's just…I…" Wendy spluttered, trying to think quickly. There was no way she could tell her parents that she was dating Butters. Fortunately, she was saved by her father returning to the table.

"That was Lizzy," he said. He sounded grave. "Apparently Doug's had some kind of accident at work. He's in a pretty bad way. I said we'd head up there straight away."

"Oh of course." Wendy's mum smiled at her apologetically. "Sorry honey. I guess today's off."

Wendy plastered a smile to her face and joined in with all the platitudes about Poor Uncle Doug, but inside she was seething. Goddamn Uncle Doug. The old lush had probably been drunk at the wheel of his forklift again. She hung around as her parents prepared for their trip, then went to the front door to see them off.

"See you in a few days, honey!" her mum said as she kissed her goodbye.

Her dad was more pragmatic. "No parties, okay?"

After they'd gone, Wendy switched on the TV and flicked through the seemingly endless channels, watching a couple of gameshows and an old soap she hadn't seen for years. It was only the sight of some evangelical preacher trying to con money out of gullible people that finally made her turn the TV off. She prowled the house, looking for something to do, and ended up in her bedroom, gazing at her mobile phone, which, unusually for her, was switched off, because all the calls and texts from Butters depressed her. She picked it up, and considered calling Bebe, or one of the other girls. She scrolled through her contact list thoughtfully. Red? Powder? Annie? No, not Annie. She was acting far too weird lately.

She had just decided to call Red when the doorbell chimed. Wendy went to her window and peered out at the caller, and her eyes widened. Butters stood gazing hopefully at the front door, holding yet another bunch of bloody flowers.

"Shit!"

Wendy darted away from the window, and stood for a moment, wondering what the hell to do. If Butters got any hint that she was at home, he'd never leave. Breathing deeply, she grabbed her phone and handbag, and made her way quietly down the stairs. She grabbed her coat off a hook in the hallway and tiptoed toward the kitchen and the safety of the back door. She jumped as the doorbell rang again.

She had barely made it into the kitchen when the letterbox flicked up and a hopeful voice called into the house.

"Wendy? Are you there?"

"Sorry Butters," she muttered as she pulled her snowboots on. Privately, Wendy couldn't believe things had come to this: sneaking out of her own house to avoid Butters. It wasn't like the poor guy had done anything wrong. She felt like a complete coward.

With one last apologetic look behind her, she slipped out of the back door.

*

As usual for a Saturday, Shakey's was busy. Wendy walked in and glanced furtively around. She spied her friends sitting in a booth next to the front window and headed over. Bebe smiled at her as she approached.

"Hey! We didn't think you were coming! I thought you were on Butters Watch!"

"I was, until he turned up at my house! I don't know how much more of this I can take." Wendy sighed. "I'm gonna get a drink." She looked around for a waiter.

On the other side of the room, Stan watched his ex-girlfriend. Kyle sat opposite, his phone clamped to his ear.

"Wendy and Butters," Stan said quietly. "I still can't believe it."

"Dude, you can't keep obsessing over this!" Kyle said, his voice muffled by the black scarf which he again had wound around his neck and mouth. "You've gotta move on. She has."

"But she looks so miserable."

"Stan, she's dating _Butters_! Hell, I'd be miserable too!" Kyle removed his phone and looked at it thoughtfully. "Kenny's still not answering. You think he's okay?"

"I'm sure he's fine. He's probably still asleep."

"It's not like him not to answer his phone, though," Kyle said, as Cartman joined them after another unsuccessful attempt to cheat the pinball machine.

"Well maybe he's busy!" Stan said irritably. "I don't know!"

"Yeah, I'll bet he's busy, all right!" Cartman said, grinning. "If I was stuck in a girl's body, I know what I'd be busy doing!"

"That's cos you're a sicko!" Stan told him. He gazed wistfully at Wendy again.

"Dude, seriously, what's with the scarf?" Cartman asked Kyle. "Did that Goth bitch give you mouth herpes or something?"

"There's no such thing as mouth herpes, Cartman!"

"Yeah there is!" Cartman said defensively. "Jews are the only ones who can get it, though!"

Bebe strutted past, on her way back from the toilets. Bebe never walked, she always strutted, mainly because the size of her heels made it almost impossible for her to do walk normally. Stan grabbed her arm as she passed their table.

"Bebe! Is Wendy all right?"

"None of your business!" Bebe replied rudely.

"Ah, come on Bebe!" Stan said, looking at her imploringly. "I'm really worried about her!"

Bebe looked at him almost sympathetically. "Okay, look," she said. "She's having a little trouble right now, but it's something only she can sort out. It's nice that you're concerned, but you can't really help her. I'll tell her you asked, though."

She smiled at him, and began the short strut back to her table.

"Hey Bebe!" Cartman called after her. "You wanna suck on my white chocolate salty balls?"

"Fuck off, skank!"

"Lesbian!"

Bebe rolled her eyes as she sat down. "Why are boys so disgusting?" she asked.

"Because they're boys," Red replied. "Anyway, what did Stan want?"

"He asked if Wendy was okay, that's all."

"He did?" Wendy turned around and looked at Stan, her eyes misting.

"Forget him!" Red said, following Wendy's gaze. "There's only one reason a guy asks after a girl. He thinks he's still in with a chance!"

"You're right." Wendy turned back around. As she did so, she caught sight of someone – a blonde someone - passing the window. She gasped and ducked under the table.

"Relax, it's Tweek, not Butters," Powder said.

Wendy sat up, feeling foolish.

"You're right, you can't go on like this," Heidi said. "You've gotta kick him to the kerb."

"I can't!" Wendy said passionately. "It would really hurt him, and he doesn't deserve that. He's such a sweet guy, and none of this is his fault. It's all mine."

"Sure, but what's the alternative?" Red asked.

"I don't know."

"Wendy, the longer you put it off, the more painful it's gonna be, for both of you," Bebe said quietly. "It's nice that you wanna protect him, but he's gonna end up getting hurt one way or another."

Wendy smiled sadly. "You're right," she said. "It's gonna be hard, but I've got no choice, have I? I know what I've gotta do."

**Aww, poor Butters! Anyway, please review!**

**Chapter 11 up soon…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Girl Trouble**

**Thanks to all readers and reviewers! I've had a few people asking me to ****get Stan and Wendy back together – please be patient! There are a few things I've got planned before that'll happen. Good things, I hope…**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 11**

"Annie?"

Kenny didn't respond. He stared at his desk, one hand clutching his stomach. If he could just make it go away…

He was aware of his classmates murmuring around him. He looked up and saw staring at him like a sniper watching a target. Kenny gazed steadily back at him.

"What?"

"I just asked you a question, Annie."

"Did you? Sorry, I…" Kenny's voice trailed off pathetically. He was having trouble concentrating on anything other than the sharp pain that was coiling itself around his stomach and hips. _Her stomach and hips, _he corrected himself quietly.

"I'll just repeat it for you then, shall I, and waste even more of our class time!" Garrison said sarcastically. "Listen up this time, okay? This question could be important for your finals." He leant in toward Kenny. "What was the name of the barman in _Cheers_?"

Kenny stared back at him. That was the important question? He wondered why he was even surprised. Garrison had been teaching them since the third grade, and his classes had always mainly consisted of pop culture and rants about Kathy Lee Gifford. It was well known that all of Garrison's classes had a record fail rate. Kenny rubbed his aching stomach. He wasn't sure what was worse: the pain in his belly or Garrison's coffee breath.

"Well?" Garrison asked sharply.

Kenny sighed. There was no way he was going to get the question right – he had never seen an episode of _Cheers _in his life. He was more of a _My Name Is_ _Earl_ kind of guy.

"I don't know," he said in a resigned voice.

"You don't know?" Garrison said angrily. It was more a statement of a fact than a question. "What the hell do you think I've been teaching you for the past three weeks! All right, everybody write this down so you remember it – the name of the barman in _Cheers_ was Sam Malone. Everybody got that? Sam Malone, as played by Ted Danson." The class mumbled mutinously as they wrote this useless piece of information down. "Trust me; you'll thank me come finals day!" Garrison said smugly.

"Not fucking likely!" Kenny heard Kyle mutter.

"Now, going back to what we were learning yesterday, who can tell me the name of Woody Harrels – what is it, Annie?"

"Mr Garrison, I don't feel too good," Kenny said feebly, putting his hand down. "Can I go to the bathroom please?"

"What's wrong with you?" Garrison asked unsympathetically. "Is it your head? Your stomach? You haven't got that explosive diarrhoea, have you?"

"No! Please, Mr Garrison…" Kenny looked at him imploringly.

Garrison sighed. "All right." He went to his desk and got a bathroom pass out of the drawer. Kenny took it gratefully and bolted before Garrison had the chance to say anything else.

He walked down the corridor, almost bent double with the pain, and ducked into the girls' toilets. He went into a cubicle, locked the door and sank down onto the toilet seat. He took a few deep breaths. The pain was getting steadily worse, he was sure of it, and nothing he did seemed to help. He had taken a couple of aspirin when it had first started, but they had had about as much affect as a couple of Tic Tacs.

Kenny groaned and began to rock gently back and forth. Was this some kind of punishment? Was this because he hadn't learnt his lesson, whatever that was? Or was this just down to Satan being a big fat, hairy, red, prick? Kenny had died many times in his relatively short life, and most of the time he didn't suffer, which was something he had always been grateful for. But this – this was something else.

He heard the bell ring in the corridor, and then the toilet door open, and a couple of girls entered, giggling. They walked over to the sinks, talking in low voices that Kenny strained to hear. At length, one of them spoke up.

"Annie, honey? Are you in here?" Red's voice echoed around the tiled walls.

"Yeah." Kenny guessed that the other girl was Heidi. Red and Heidi were pretty much inseparable.

"Are you okay?" Heidi asked.

"I…don't know."

"Do you want us to get the nurse?" Red asked.

"Nah. I'll be okay," Kenny said, in a voice that he hoped made him sound brave and yet vulnerable. "I think I just need to sit for a while."

"Okay."

The two girls turned away from Kenny's cubicle and resumed their conversation.

"So when do you think she'll do it?" Red asked.

"I don't know," Heidi replied. "Let's hope it's soon, though. I don't want to have start inviting him to parties!"

"Hmm." Red thought for a moment as she applied more lipgloss to her already coated lips. "Hey! You don't think she'll get one of us to do it for her, do you?"

"Nah!" Heidi said dismissively. "Wendy's got too much pride for that. She never asks for help unless – "

Heidi was interrupted by the sound of a yelp from the locked cubicle. She and Red looked at one another, then at the cubicle.

"Annie? You okay in there?"

"I've got blood coming out of my VAGINA!" Kenny paused for breath, and wished he hadn't put quite so much emphasis on the word "vagina". Oh well – the girls already thought he was weird. What was a little more? "Oh god – it's not stopping!"

Outside the cubicle, Red and Heidi exchanged glances.

"Yee-ah," Red said, eyebrows raised. "Relax Annie. You're just having your period. It's fine. Geez, anybody'd think you'd never had one before!"

Kenny's eyes widened. "My p-period?" he stuttered. "But I can't have a period, I'm a – " He stopped himself just in time.

"You're a what?"

"No, nothing! Doesn't matter!" Suddenly, everything was beginning to make sense. Kenny cast his mind back over the previous few days, and remembered his mood swings and other hormonally charged behaviour. He'd always thought that girls used PMT as an excuse to get out of things they didn't want to do (like him), but now he was starting to understand why they got so pissy for a few days every month. "Uh, I don't suppose you could help me out," he said, shutting his eyes as he spoke, "but I left my bag in Garrison's classroom, and –

"Fine!" Red said emphatically. "You can have one of mine!"

He heard her walk toward the cubicle, and then something long and thin rolled under the door. He picked it up and regarded it for a moment before tearing the wrapper off, and staring at the tampon with curiosity, wondering what to do with it. Then the answer hit him. He groaned inwardly.

Kenny McCormick realised that his already bad day was about to get a whole lot worse.

*

Butters Stotch was incredibly, insanely happy. Not Professor Chaos insane, but close enough. And it was all down to one person.

Wendy Testaburger.

Butters was outside on the bleachers, enjoying some rare sunshine. He smiled as he scrawled the name of his beloved on one of his books, then he scribbled out "Testaburger" and replaced it with "Stotch". A ladybird landed on the book and walked across Wendy's new name.

"I see a ladybug, hello Mr Ladybug!" Butters sang to it. Butters was probably the only teenager in the world who could be fascinated by a mere ladybird. Others would have flicked it away or squished it, or in Eric Cartman's case, pulled its legs and wings off and laughed at it. But Butters saw things that others didn't see, like the richness of its red wings against the black spots. Ever since he'd been with Wendy, it was like a veil had been lifted from his eyes. Everything was so much brighter and stronger. Maybe that was what love did – made you see everything in HD rather than just standard sight.

"Bye bye Mr Ladybug!" Butters said as the ladybird flew away.

"Who are you talking to?" a voice asked.

Butters looked up. Token, Craig, and Clyde stood in front of him.

"Oh, no-one, just a ladybug. Why don't you come sit down, fellas!" he said.

The other boys sat down next to him. Butters was excited. Another factor of dating Wendy was his new found popularity. People actually wanted to hang out with him now, rather than treat him as though he was radioactive as they had done before. His rating with the girls had gone from "weird and annoying" to "cute and adorable". He and Wendy had even been given their own nickname – Tom and Katie – owing to the fact that Butters only came up to Wendy's shoulder.

"So, how are ya, fellas?"

"Uh, fine." Token looked at the others, then back at Butters. "Um, Butters, I, uh, we were just wondering if we could ask you a question."

"Sure."

Token shifted uncomfortably. "We were just wondering…you know the party's coming up and everything? Well, we haven't got dates yet and we don't wanna be a bunch of total dateless dweebs. So, we wondered if you'd got any tips?"

Butters stared at him. "You're asking _me_ for dating tips?"

"Well, we figured since you're going out with Wendy now, you must know something about it!"

Butters thought for a moment. "Well, there are lots of things you can do to make a girl want to go out with you. You have to make her feel valued, special."

"How do we do that?" Craig asked.

"By buying her flowers!" Butters replied. "Wendy loves it when I buy her flowers!"

"Okay. What else?" Clyde asked.

"Girls love it when you listen to them," Butters said. "Always listen to what they say, no matter how boring it is. And always agree with them, too, even if you think they're wrong. That's a big part of why my relationship with Wendy is so successful. But I guess the biggest tip I can give is to always respect the girl, even if you only go on one date with her."

"What about if I'm only asking her out so I can bang her?" Craig asked. "Do I still have to respect her afterwards?"

"Oh yes!" Butters said. "Otherwise she might never wanna go out with you again!" He looked at his watch. "Is there anything else I can help you fellas with?"

"No, I think we got it," Token said. He looked at the notepad he'd been taking notes on. "Lemme check. Flowers, listen, respect, banging," he murmured, checking off each point with his pen. "Yep, we got it!"

Butters stood up and put his books into his bag. "Good. Well, I gotta go, I'm meeting Wendy. See you guys around!"

He jumped down from the bleachers and walked off. The other boys watched him go.

"I can't believe we've had to ask Butters for help with our love lives!" Clyde said. "How sad and desperate are we?"

"Sad and desperate enough to listen to him," Token said. "Anyway, he had some pretty good ideas. And if it worked for him…" He grinned at the others.

"Who are you gonna ask?" Craig asked.

"Bebe."

"You must be feeling confident!" Clyde chuckled. "She doesn't go out with just anyone, you know!"

"I know!" Token said. "But I'm feeling lucky. What about you?"

"I'm gonna ask Powder!" Clyde declared. "She's really hot!"

Craig laughed. "Dude, you need glasses!"

Clyde's face flushed crimson with embarrassment. "Who are you gonna ask, then?"

"Annie."

Clyde and Token looked at each other.

"Annie?!" Clyde repeated. "I don't think it's me that needs glasses! Dude, that girl is _weird_! Even the other girls don't hang out with her any more!"

"Exactly!" Craig said, his eyes gleaming. "So she's not gonna get many offers, right? In fact, I might be the only guy to ask her out, so she can't exactly turn me down, can she? Not unless she wants to be sad and dateless!"

"You're sick, dude!" Token said, shaking his head.

"No, I am a fucking genius!" Craig said, flipping his infamous middle finger.

While Craig, Token and Clyde were sorting out their love lives, their agony uncle Butters headed to Stark's Pond to meet with Wendy. He walked along in a little bubble of happiness, feeling like nothing in the world could touch him. All of life's bad stuff seemed distant and irrelevant.

What poor Butters didn't know, however, was that his bubble was about to be burst.

**Well, that's it for chapter 11. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review!**

**Chapter 12 up soon…**


	12. Chapter 12

**Girl Trouble**

**Hey everybody, sorry it's been a while between updates but life's been crazy lately! ****Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 12**

Wendy was already at Stark's Pond when Butters arrived. She jumped off a bench as he approached.

"Hey Wendy!" Butters said cheerily. He stood on tiptoes to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled uneasily.

"Hey Leo!" she said with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster. "I'm glad you could come. I really need to talk to you."

"I need to talk to you too!" Butters replied. "Wow, our minds are so in sync, aren't they, Wendy!"

Wendy squirmed with embarrassment. _You won't be thinking that in about five minutes, _she thought sadly.

"I had this great idea about the party!" Butters ploughed on, oblivious to Wendy's discomfort. "I thought we could go as Morticia and Gomez from the Addams family!"

"Really?" Wendy said falteringly. "Well that's great, but – "

"With your hair, you'd make a great Morticia," Butters interrupted, "and I know I don't look much like Gomez, but I could slick my hair back and draw a moustache on!" He paused, thinking. "I tried to grow a moustache once, but it didn't really work. Cartman said it looked like pubes."

"Wow, pubes!" Wendy said, trying to get her train of thought back on track. "Listen, it's really great that you're making plans and everything but – "

"U-unless you wanna go as someone else!" Butters interrupted again. "I don't mind, really!"

"No, it's not that, its – "

"We could go as Rose and Jack from Titanic, or…or Cathy and Heathcliff, or Tiger Woods and Elin or – "

"Leo just _stop_!" Wendy cried out in exasperation.

Butters looked surprised. "What's the matter, Wendy?"

"I can't do this, okay!"

"Okay." He looked confused. "Who do you want to go as, then?"

"I don't want to go as anybody!" Wendy said loudly. She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry but I don't want to go to the party with you."

"Well, we don't have to go!" Butters said desperately. "We could stay round my house and watch TV, or – "

"No, Leo," she said gently. "I don't want to do that either. I don't want to do anything with you any more."

Butters looked taken aback. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that…I think we should break up."

Butters shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. "No…why? Is it because of me? I can change!"

"No, it's because of me," Wendy said. Her own eyes were beginning to fill up. "I just – I don't have feelings for you. I'm sorry." She reached out to him, but he moved away. "I never should have let things get this far."

Butters' face hardened suddenly. "This is because of Stan, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You only went out with me because you knew it would piss Stan off, didn't you?"

Wendy looked away guiltily.

"I can see it all now!" Butters continued. "Suddenly it all makes sense – why you've been avoiding me, why you only told everyone that we were dating when Stan was around!" He shook his head sadly. "Geez, my dad was right! I really am stupid!"

He looked at the ground. Tears ran down his nose and dripped gently into the snow.

"You're not stupid!" Wendy said urgently. "You're one of the kindest, sweetest people I know!"

"Yeah, and look where that's got me!" Butters said, kicking out at the snow. "What am I going to do now? Everybody's been really cool to me since we started dating! Now they're gonna think I'm a total loser. Again."

"We could tell them that you ditched me!" Wendy suggested.

"No. No-one's gonna believe that. They know I'm totally crazy about you!"

Wendy squirmed again. "Well, what do you want to do?"

Butters brightened suddenly. "Could we go to the party together? I've kind of already told everyone we're going." He shrugged apologetically. "And we can tell everyone we've broken up afterwards."

"I don't know…"

"Oh, please Wendy!" Butters pleaded. "I've been really looking forward to it for ages – and you kinda owe it to me." His eyes locked on to hers and held on desperately. "Please? I won't embarrass you at all; in fact, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to!" She frowned. "Just one night, that's all I'm asking. Just one more night."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," she said. "And you're right, I do owe you one." She smiled. "All right then, Gomez. One more night."

*

No more distractions, Kyle had decided. There were enough in the house already: Ike had a couple of friends round for a sleepover, and Kyle's parents, Sheila and Gerald were having a crisis meeting in the dining room, so Kyle had retreated to his bedroom to try and complete his maths homework.

"Okay, question two…" He bit down on the top of his pen and groaned as pain shot through his mouth. He put a hand to his jaw. Henrietta had promised it would only last a couple of days, but it had been longer than that now. Kyle breathed deeply, waiting for the throbbing pain to subside. What if something had gone wrong? He hadn't even dared to look in his mouth since he'd had it done, but anything seemed to set it off. Eating, cleaning his teeth, hell, even talking had all become a form of torture. He thought about calling Henrietta and asking her to remove it, but then he imagined the other Goths faces. No. He could handle a little bit of pain. Pain was a Goth's life, after all.

He looked back at his homework again. "Question two…"

Music blared from the other side of the wall. Kyle scowled. "Goddamit!" He hammered on the wall. "Hey Ike, will you keep it down in there?"

There was a pause and then the music was turned down, followed swiftly by a muffled curse word. "I heard that Ike!"

Kyle returned to his desk and refocused on his homework. "Right, question two…" he said through gritted teeth.

His pen hovering above the page, Kyle did some quick calculations. He smiled to himself. It was just too easy! Triumphant, he was about to write the answer down when there was a loud and insistent knocking at the front door that chased it out of his head. He swore.

"What now?"

He stormed out on to the landing, intending to go downstairs and shout loudly at whoever had disturbed him, but his mum got there first.

"Oh, hello Stan!"

"Hey Mrs B. Is Kyle in?"

"I'm sorry Stan, but now isn't a good time."

"I just need to talk to him real quick!"

"You'll see him at school tomorrow."

"But – "

"Goodbye Stan."

Kyle watched Sheila shut the door in a bemused Stan's face and sighed. He went back into his bedroom and threw open the window. A couple of minutes later, Stan climbed carefully into the room, shutting the window behind him.

"Hey dude!" Stan said as he jumped down off the window sill. "What's going on with your parents? Your mom's being an even bigger bitch than usual!"

"They're talking about me downstairs. They seem to think that I don't realise! My mom thinks I've got an eating disorder," Kyle said, answering Stan's quizzical look.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't eat my dinner."

Stan nodded. He had eaten kosher food in the past when he had stayed at Kyle's house, and he could quite understand anyone not wanting to eat it.

"Listen." Kyle opened his bedroom door. The agitated voice of Sheila Broflovski echoed through the house.

"…but look at what they've done to Kyle, Gerald! He's only been one for five minutes and he's already got an eating disorder! That's what these Goth people do! My poor bubbe!"

The boys clearly heard Gerald's weary sigh. "Sheila, Kyle's old enough now to make his own decisions. If he wants to have an eating disorder then that's up to him!"

Kyle shut the door on his warring parents.

"And I thought _my_ parents were screwed up!" Stan said, shaking his head.

Kyle sat down at his desk. "What do you need my help with, then?"

Stan bristled. "Why do you always assume that I need your help? Can't I just come over and see my bestest buddy?"

"Not when your bestest buddy has a pile of homework!" Kyle replied testily.

"Damn, someone really rammed a rod up _your_ ass, didn't they Kyle?"

Kyle sighed with frustration. "What do you want, Stan?"

"What I want is to know why you've been so pissy lately!"

"I've got my reasons!" Kyle said, touching his jaw gently. "I've just been busy, that's all!"

"So this has nothing to do with you being a Goth?" Stan asked cautiously. "I mean, you're still happy, right?"

"Very happy!" Kyle snapped. "Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I've got a ton of stuff to do, so seriously, what do you want?"

Stan sighed. If Kyle didn't want to admit what everybody else could clearly see, fine. Screw him.

"You know what, you're right, I did come over here to ask for your help. Well, your advice, actually," Stan admitted with a contrite smile. "I want to run an idea past you."

"Uh-oh."

"It's not that bad!" Stan said defensively. "Not as bad as some of my others, anyway!"

Kyle swivelled around in his chair to face him. "Okay. What is it?"

"I was sitting in Garrison's class today, and I had this awesome idea about how to break Wendy and Butters up!"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Oh for god's sake, Stan! Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"I can't! It's Wendy and _Butters_, Kyle! It's not natural!"

"It's a rebound thing! Wendy'll come to her senses soon! Just let it run its course!"

"Can't do that, Ky!" Stan watched his friend run his hands through his straightened hair in a wearied way. "Look, just let me tell you my idea, and then I'll go and leave you to your pissyness. Okay?"

"_Fine_."

Stan explained his plan, deliberately avoiding looking at his Super Bestest Buddy. If he had, he would have seen Kyle staring at him with a growing mixture of disbelief and astonishment. When he finally finished speaking, there was a long uncomfortable silence.

"Dude, you're nuts! You are certifiable!" Kyle said into the void. "I mean, who the hell is gonna do that?"

Stan smiled. "I figured I'd ask Kenny."

"He's not gonna go for it!"

"Sure he will! It might take a little persuasion, but I think he'll do it."

"Not even Kenny could be talked into doing something like that!"

"I know Kenny, Kyle!" Stan said. "I know which buttons to push. Trust me, he'll do it!"

"Whatever. I still think you're nuts."

Kyle didn't know why Stan had even bothered to come and ask for his advice – the chances were he'd do what he normally did: listen to what Kyle had to say, and then go off and do it anyway. It had been a feature of their friendship over the years. He yawned, and clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Stan had already seen something glinting in the moonlight, something that he would never have associated with Kyle, grade A student and all round smartass. He stared at his friend, agape.

"Dude, is that a _tongue stud_?" he spluttered, when he'd finally found his voice.

Kyle nodded slowly, his hand still over his mouth.

"Dude!" Stan said again.

"All the other Goths have got piercings!" Kyle said from behind his hand. "Henrietta said it'd be totally non-conformist!"

Stan stared at him. _Jesus Christ_, he thought, _and people thought I was under the thumb with Wendy._

"Lemme see!" he said, his curiosity piqued.

Kyle reluctantly moved his hand and opened his mouth. Stan peered in like a dentist examining a patient.

"Is your tongue supposed to go all red like that?" he asked after a while.

"What?" Kyle got up and went to the mirror. He opened his mouth again, having to force himself to look. His tongue had indeed gone a very unnatural shade of red, in contrast to the small silver ball on top of it. He turned back to Stan, his face pale. "I don't know!"

"Maybe you should get it removed!" Stan said doubtfully.

"No, it'll be okay!" Kyle said quickly, as the faces of the other Goths appeared in front of him again. "I'll just keep bathing it! It'll be fine!"

"Whatever you say!" Stan said, in the same doubtful tone. He grinned as an amusing thought struck him. "Dude, your mom's gonna kill you!"

"Like I care what she thinks!" Kyle said crossly. "I'm seventeen; I can do whatever the hell I want!" He paused, his defiant stance slipping as images of what Sheila Broflovski might actually do to him crossed his mind. "Promise you won't tell her, okay?"

"Fine." Stan chuckled. "Look at us, Ky. Who knew a couple of chicks could make us act like this. Talk about fucking girl trouble, huh?" Kyle couldn't help but smile back. "Speaking of which," Stan continued, "I couldn't hang out here for a while, could I? Only, Shelley's got her new boyfriend round and she said she'd kick my ass if I came home early."

Kyle looked at his unfinished homework and sighed. "Sure, why not? What are friends for?"

**Wow, longest chapter ever! Still, please R'n'R!**

**Chapter 13 up soon…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Girl Trouble **

**Okay, yeah I know it's been a while! I've had such trouble with this chapter, I feel like I've had to physically hold it down to write it, and I still don't think it's that good. Ah well.**** Anyway, see what you think.**

**I don't own South Park – which is still utterly brilliant after 200 eps.**

**Chapter 13**

Eric Cartman walked along between the rows of tables in South Park High's cafeteria, like a cheetah on the hunt for a gazelle. In Cartman's mind, any type of gazelle would do, but preferably she would have long legs, nice tits and a pert arse. Well, in an ideal world. So long as she agreed to go with him to the party, Cartman didn't care.

His mission, however, was proving fruitless. Every girl he had asked so far had turned him down. Some turned their backs on him as he approached. One girl had actually handed him a restraining order. So many girls - all of them bitches. If he didn't have any success soon, he'd have to start considering the girls in the grade below. He shuddered at the thought. Nobody deserved that – some of those girls were definitely the wrong side of crazy.

His stomach rumbled and he decided to abandon his mission – after all, today was chicken and creamed corn, his favourite. He joined the lunch queue just behind Wendy and gazed at her, his eyes making their way down until they found her arse. He forced himself to look away. Why the hell would someone like her want to date someone like Butters? It didn't make any sense to him. In fact, girls didn't make sense to him, period.

Wendy flicked her hair back and Cartman had to fight the urge to stroke it. He imagined reaching out and touching it, entangling his fingers in its shiny blackness, pulling it hard… Hard. He looked down. Oh god, no, not now! Cartman endeavoured to cover himself with the lunch tray as casually as he could and shuffled along as the queue moved.

When it was his turn to be served, he smiled as ingratiatingly as possible, hoping not to draw attention to his embarrassment. Chef piled food on to his plate and handed it over the counter.

"Uh, can I put it on the tray please, Eric?"

"N-no! I'll just take it!"

"The plate's hot, Eric!"

"It'll be fine!"

Chef glanced down at the tray, then back up at Cartman's face, which was going as red as his T-shirt. He grinned.

"Yeah, perhaps you had better take it."

"Yep!" Cartman snatched the plate from Chef and, without another word, walked away with as much dignity as he could muster. He ran towards his friends' table, the hot plate threatening to burn the skin off his fingertips, and put it down with a loud clank which left some of his creamed corn splattered across the table. His friends looked up at him.

"What?" he asked as he cleared up his spilt food. He surreptitiously glanced down under the lunch tray and was relieved to see that things seemed to have calmed down. He sat down and looked at his friends.

"What's up with you guys?"

His friends (and Kyle) were all looking a little distracted. Kenny picked at his food, staring into the middle distance as though contemplating something truly horrific. Kyle had no lunch and instead regarded the table. Only Stan paid Cartman any sort of attention.

"Whaddaya mean: what's up with us? What's up with you?" At Cartman's quizzical look, Stan continued: "I saw you, working the lunchroom like a hooker touting for trade! Still no date yet?"

"No!" Cartman snapped. "I don't _need_ a date, Stan! Anyway, it's their loss!"

Stan smirked, which infuriated Cartman even more.

"I'm not the only dateless dweeb round here though, am I, Stan?" he spat. The smirk died on Stan's face.

"It doesn't count if you're not looking!" Stan said crossly. He stabbed his fork viciously into the already dead chicken and shovelled some into his mouth.

The table lapsed into silence, each boy (or boy/girl, in Kenny's case) contemplating their own problems.

"Craig asked me out this morning!" Kenny said suddenly. The others looked at him in surprise – Cartman was caught so off guard by the revelation that he started choking on a piece of chicken.

"Craig asked you out?" Stan repeated, slapping Cartman hard on the back. "Craig fucking Tucker?!"

"Yes, Craig fucking Tucker! Who the fuck else would I be talking about?"

"Okay, okay!" Stan held his hands up in mock defence. "So what did you say?"

Kenny shrugged. "What could I say?" He shut his eyes, as if remembering something else. "Dude, he gave me flowers!"

Cartman, who had picked that exact moment to take a swig of Coke, snorted with laughter. He winced as the Coke bubbles shot up his nose and sent him into a coughing fit. "He…gave you…flowers!" he spluttered when he had recovered.

"Is there a fucking echo in here?"

"No dude, we're just trying to get our heads around it, that's all…" Stan's voice trailed off at the sight of Kenny's adopted face, which was getting redder and redder under the blond curls.

"You're trying to get _your_ heads around it!" he shouted, causing a group of students on a neighbouring table to stare at him. "How the fuck do you think _I _feel?! Craig Tucker gave me flowers! I'm fucking traumatised!"

"So what was your answer?" Stan asked. Cartman was surprised to find himself leaning toward Kenny expectantly.

"Well I said…yes!" Kenny said falteringly. His friends exchanged glances around him. "Ah come on, don't look at me like that! Look, I refuse to be sad and dateless on party night, okay – even if that means I have to go with Craig Tucker!" He shuddered.

Cartman shook his head. "Dude, I will never understand chicks!"

"I am not a fucking chick, bitch!" Kenny shot back. He glanced around; suddenly aware he was being stared at. "That is…I mean, uh…ah, fuck it!"

*

Stan was becoming increasingly concerned about Kyle. His friend had had nothing to eat, and barely said two words all day. As the foursome walked to his car after school, Stan decided to tackle him about it.

"Are you okay, Ky?"

Kyle nodded mutely.

"It's just, you've been really quiet all day, and that's not like you."

"Yeah, what gives, Jewboy?" Cartman asked.

Kyle shrugged. Stan looked across at him, and was alarmed by how pale he looked, even with the ubiquitous black scarf covering half of his face. He unlocked his car and they got in, Stan and Cartman in the front, Kenny and Kyle in the back.

"Is this about the you-know-what?" Stan asked as he started the engine. He glanced at Kyle in the rearview mirror.

"What?" Cartman asked, looking from one to the other. "What you-know-what? What?"

Kyle frowned. Stan rolled his eyes.

"The you-know-what!" he said, pointing discreetly to his mouth. Kyle, however just looked at him, confused. "The…the thing! The thing…you know…" He stared at Kyle desperately. Kyle gazed back non-committally.

"Are we gonna sit in the parking lot all day?" Kenny asked irritably.

"No." Stan sighed, and gave up. He reversed carefully out, narrowly avoiding a fender bender with Bebe's car, and headed out onto South Park's snow lined streets. He decided to drop the other two off first, which would give him a chance to speak to Kyle alone.

"Dude, have you got AIDS?" Cartman asked, as they drove down Main Street. "You can tell me, Kyle! I totally promise not to laugh – too much!"

Stan could almost feel the heat of Kyle's glare as it bored into the fat boy.

"It's your own fault if you have, Kahl!" Cartman continued casually. "That's what happens when you get involved with Goth mutts like Henrietta!"

"He hasn't got AIDS, fatass!" Stan said, to Cartman's obvious disappointment. "You might as well tell them Ky. They're only gonna find out anyway."

Kyle shook his head vigorously. Stan glanced at him in the rearview mirror again, sighed, and pulled over to the side of the road. He turned around in his seat and faced his Super Best.

"Alright, lemme see."

Kyle mumbled something inaudible behind the scarf.

"There's obviously something up." Stan leaned towards him. "Come on, how bad can it be?"

Kyle made an annoyed noise and pulled the scarf down. He opened his mouth. Almost at once, Stan gasped, Cartman shouted: "Whoa!" and Kenny vomited out of the window. Kyle's tongue had swollen up to two or three times its normal size. Pus, the colour of the creamed corn they had had for lunch, oozed around the tongue stud, which was virtually lost in the swollen folds of Kyle's tongue. Stan stared at the horror, almost as pale faced as the Goth.

"Dude, you have got to get that removed!" He shook his head. "I'm taking you to the hospital!"

"Ooo!" Kyle shook his head vigorously, dislodging some pus, which he spat onto the floor of the car. Kenny screeched in disgust.

"Kyle, you can't eat, or even talk!" Stan snapped. "Look, I know you're worried about your mom finding out but what else are you gonna do? Starve to death?"

Kyle frowned, as though he was giving it serious consideration. Stan re-started the car. "You're going to the hospital, and that's it!"

Kyle slumped down sulkily. Cartman sniggered.

"Dude, just when I thought it wasn't possible for you to get any lamer you go and do this!" he said, before collapsing into fits of laughter.

Ten minutes later they were in the E.R. room in Hell's Pass Hospital, a bleak, miserable place that Kenny knew all too well. Stan had had a long argument with the receptionist about the seriousness of Kyle's condition, and she was about to send them on their way until Kyle opened his mouth. Cartman complained about being stuck there with the stupid Jewboy, and that he had a chicken pot pie waiting for him at home, but Stan insisted that they stay with Kyle until a doctor arrived just to give him some support, although really, it was to make sure he didn't sneak out of the hospital.

"Dude, Kyle's mom's gonna kick his Goth ass into next week!" Kenny remarked as the other three drove back into South Park.

Sheila Broflovski had already been called by a concerned family friend who'd spotted Kyle in the waiting area, much to his horror. Stan couldn't help but feel a little bit sorry for his friend. He'd had the look of a condemned man as he'd left with the doctor.

"Yeah well it's his own fault," Stan said. "I told him to get the goddamn thing removed yesterday! It looked pretty bad then!"

"You think he'll be okay for the party?" Cartman asked with a grin.

"Beats me." Stan knew exactly why Cartman wanted to know. If there was ever a chance to humiliate Kyle, especially in public, Cartman would grab it with both fat hands.

"The way things are going; there might not be a party!" Kenny said sulkily.

"Huh?"

"The DJ's cancelled on us, nobody's done anything about food or drink, and just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, they go and put _Powder_ in charge of decorating the hall!" Kenny snorted with derision. "I mean, have you seen her? She came to school today in a green top, yellow miniskirt and fishnets! And they want her in charge of decoration?!" He shook his head. "She wants our main colour scheme to be _purple_ and _yellow_! I mean, _please_! We might as well just spray the walls with shit and be done with it!" Rant over, he took a deep breath. He looked up to find that Cartman had turned round in his seat to stare at him, and Stan took his eyes off the road just long enough to give him a glance in the rearview mirror. Kenny sighed. Being stared at was something he was becoming well accustomed to. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just you!" Stan said. He paused, trying to phrase the next part carefully. "You're so…different!"

"Yeah, I'm in a girl's body, Stan! It'll do that!"

"I think what Stan's trying to say, Kenneth, is that you're a big wussy bitch now!" Cartman said, grinning at Stan. The dark haired boy rolled his eyes. _Oh Cartman, if I could kill you now, I would._

"No I'm not!"

"Sure you are!" Cartman replied. "You're a total chick now, bitching about colour schemes and what other girls are wearing! And lets not forget who you're going to the party with!"

"At least I've got a date!" Kenny argued back.

"Sorry, that one won't work on me!" Cartman said, grinning at him in that infuriating way that only he could.

"You guys have no idea how hard it is to be me!" Kenny shouted. "I have to dress slutty, but not too slutty or I'll get called a slut! I have to try and walk in shoes that are like stilts, and remember to pee sitting down! Guys that I don't like hit on me like, all the time, and then there's all the other stuff that comes with this body!" He leaned in towards them. "Have either of you guys ever tried to, uh, _use_ a tampon?"

Stan and Cartman exchanged glances. "Can't say I've ever ridden the cotton pony, no!" Cartman replied.

"Trust me, don't!" Kenny shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You see, this is exactly what I was talking about!" Cartman said. "Only a chick would bitch about how hard it is to be a chick!"

"If you call me a chick once more I swear to God…"

Stan was relieved to pull up outside Cartman's house before things got any uglier. "Okay fatass, this is you!"

"I don't know what you're even complaining about!" Fatass was saying to Kenny. "You've got _boobs_! Why'd you even need to leave the house?"

"You've got bigger tits than me, fatboy!"

"Ai!"

"Cartman, get out of the fucking car before I kick you out!" Stan said, rubbing his temples.

"But he – "

"Get out!! Geez!"

Cartman got out of the car, grumbling to himself, and hammered on Kenny's window. Kenny wound it down, glaring at him. "What?"

"Chick!" Cartman shouted in his face. He ran off, laughing, before Kenny had time to react.

"He is such an r-tard!" Kenny complained, as Stan pulled away. "Why are we still friends with him?"

Stan shrugged. He had a couple of theories as to why they had never kicked the fatass out of their group. One was that Cartman's rare brand of evil genius was always handy to have around, especially if they found themselves in a particularly tight spot. The other was that it was safer to have him as a friend, rather than an enemy. Cartman was definitely the sort of person who needed to be kept where you could see him.

They drove the rest of the way to Annie's house in silence. "'Kay, thanks for the ride," Kenny said as he opened the car door.

"Uh, Kenny, can I talk to you for a second?" Stan asked nervously.

"Sure, what about?"

Stan scratched the back of his head self consciously. He had been dreading this moment for the whole journey.

"It's about Wendy," he continued. "I need to ask you a favour."

**Is it me, or are these chapters getting longer? Anyway, please R'n'R, I have to go to work later and it'll make my day!**

**Chapter 14 up soon-ish…**


	14. Chapter 14

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, I know it's been a while, but here's chapter 14****. Only one or two more chapters to go after this one!**

**I don't own South Park**

**Chapter 14**

Kenny gave himself one last appraising look in the mirror and smiled. He twirled, just to take in the full effect, but stopped mid-twirl and looked around, in case anyone had seen him twirling. Satisfied that he hadn't been caught, he turned back to the mirror.

His costume was pretty good, he had to admit. It wasn't what he normally would have gone for, but then the circumstances weren't exactly normal. Annie's mum had come up with the idea and helped him put the costume together. At first, he'd baulked at the idea of going as Little Bo Peep, but she'd been insistent. Kenny smoothed out the pink gingham carefully. The costume was barely recognisable from the one his temporary mum had produced – Kenny had decided that, if he was to show his face at the party (and not be laughed out of the door), some alterations needed to be made, so he'd called on Bebe for help. The dress, once knee length, was now barely bum length, and a pair of puffy, frilly sleeves had been replaced by a sassy shoulder baring halterneck. He smiled to himself and twirled again. Slutty Bo Peep.

Kenny slipped into a pair of strappy white heels, and then carefully fastened a white bonnet over Annie's bouncy blonde curls. Finally, he grabbed a white crook that had been propped against the mirror and brandished it as menacingly as someone dressed all in pink gingham can. The crook had been his idea. Supposedly, it was to go with the costume, but its real purpose was to batter Craig Tucker if he tried to cop a feel at any point during the night.

Kenny went downstairs to await his date, skulking in the hallway to avoid seeing Annie's mum, who he knew would be devastated if she saw how he had massacred her costume, especially after all the hard work she had put in. He looked at the clock – 7.25pm. Five minutes till Craig was due to arrive. Kenny settled down on the stairs to await his date.

7.30 came and went, and there was no sign of Craig. Kenny tapped his foot on the floor, throwing increasingly impatient glances at the clock. As the minutes ticked by, he became more and more anxious. What if Craig had stood him up? He'd never be able to live down the humiliation. Stood up by Craig fucking Tucker! Jesus Christ! Did Craig think so little of him that he wasn't even worth a phone call?

As the minutes ticked by, Kenny felt more and more frantic. What if Craig had had some kind of accident? Or worse, a better offer? _No, he wouldn't do that to me_, he assured himself. _But if he has, I'll chop his balls off! _ He glanced at the clock – 7.40. He decided to give Craig five more minutes and if he was still a no-show, he was hitting the ice cream. The doorbell rang, startling Kenny out of his strawberry swirl laden thoughts.

"About fucking time!" he muttered, as he got up to answer it. He plastered his sweetest smile on his face, opened the door…and came face to face with his worst nightmare.

A clown stood on the front doorstep, gazing at him. Kenny took a couple of involuntary steps backwards, unable to take his eyes off the multi-coloured apparition with the creepily made up face standing in front of him. Air seemed to get stuck in his lungs as he felt a familiar wave of panic wash over him. He tightened his grip on the crook as his legs became jelly-like.

He had actually quite liked clowns, until the time his older brother Kevin had shown him a film about a certain killer clown called It. Kenny, just five years old at the time, was unable to sleep for a week and to make matters worse; Lianne Cartman had hired a clown to perform at Eric's birthday party the very next day. Kenny had spent the entire afternoon hiding in a cupboard, something that Cartman frequently reminded him about.

Kenny came out of his childhood flashback in time to see the clown take a step towards him. He gripped the crook even tighter as it threatened to slip out of his sweaty palms. The clown seemed to be saying something, although Kenny couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Just as he was about to give himself over to complete panic, survival instinct kicked in. _Come on dude! It's me or him! _With a terrifying war-cry, Kenny launched himself at the clown and began beating him with the crook. The clown let out a cry and covered its face.

"What the hell are you doing you crazy bitch!" it yelled as the blows rained down.

Kenny paused mid-hit. He knew that voice. "Craig?" he asked uncertainly.

"Who the hell did you think it was?"

Kenny stared at his date, who was lying on the doorstep almost in the foetal position, one arm still covering his face. He removed his clown mask – oh thank god, it was only a mask – with his other hand and threw it to one side like a criminal attempting to surrender.

"Are you gonna put that thing down?" Craig asked nervously, his eyes fixed just above Kenny's head.

"What?" Kenny looked up and was surprised to find that he was still holding the crook above his head in a very menacing position. "Oh yeah. Sorry."

Once he was sure it was absolutely safe, Craig got to his feet, wincing from the pain of several accurate blows to his stomach and ribs.

"What the hell is your problem anyway?" he grumbled.

"You wanna know what my problem is, Craig?" Kenny said crossly. "My problem is you turning up ten minutes late dressed as a fucking clown!"

"Well _excuse _me, but I thought you liked clowns!"

"Who the hell told you that?"

"Cartman!"

"And you _listened_ to him?" Kenny asked incredulously.

Craig's gaze lowered to the floor. "Yeah. I kinda see your point."

Just then, they heard a mocking laugh from the end of the driveway. Cartman sat in his car, laughing uproariously, beating his fists against the steering wheel.

"Dude, that was awesome!" he said, wiping his fat cheeks. "You are a fucking psycho, chick!"

"Goddamit Cartman you are such an asshole!" Kenny yelled. "Get outta here!"

Cartman drove off, still laughing to himself. Kenny turned back to Craig, frustrated.

"Great. Now everyone's gonna know about this!"

"Ah, I wouldn't worry about it. It's only Cartman!" Craig said, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not like anyone listens to him, anyway!"

"I guess." Kenny smiled sheepishly at him. "Craig, I'm really sorry about what happened."

"S'okay. I gotta admit, it's not the best start to a date I've ever had though!" Craig paused, and grinned. "Just remind me not to ask you to go to the circus!"

"Definitely!" Kenny replied, chuckling. "Unless it's Cirque De Soleil!" Kenny had only been to see Cirque De Soleil once, and while the show hadn't exactly entranced him, at least the clowns were too gay to be scary. "Shall we go?"

"Yep." As Craig stooped to pick up his clown mask, Kenny laid a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

"Craig, I swear, if you put that mask back on, this time I will fucking kill you!"

The party was hot, the music was pumping, but Kenny was all alone. Craig had pretty much abandoned him when they'd arrived to go and talk to his mates, which had annoyed Kenny a whole lot. Okay, so they were his mates as well (mostly, anyway), but that really wasn't the point. Craig had abandoned him, without even offering to get him a drink first. Kenny sighed deeply. Maybe he just didn't want to hang out with Psycho Bo Peep.

Despite his dark mood, even Kenny had to admit that the girls had done a great job with the hall. Wendy had stepped in and taken over organising the party at the eleventh hour, much to Bebe's relief, and the now tasteful decoration had her fingerprints all over it, unlike the mess Powder had been planning. Under Wendy's guidance (or bossing about, as it was otherwise known), the rest of the girls had stepped up to the mark and provided food, a fruity punch that tasted alarmingly like urine, and a DJ. The only downside to the whole night was that Mr Garrison and Mr Mackey had been drafted in by Principal Victoria to oversee the party and stop things getting out of hand.

Almost everybody had turned up in fancy dress. From where he was, Kenny could see two Lady GaGas (one of whom appeared to be a boy), a King Kong, a Star Wars Stormtrooper, Frodo and Gandalf, an Indiana Jones and a Beyoncè (Single Ladies edition). Kenny looked around, smiling in amusement as he caught sight of some of his friends. Butters and Wendy had come as Morticia and Gomez Addams, Token was sending out mixed messages as a Smooth Criminal era Michael Jackson, Bebe was claiming to be someone from Gossip Girl (although it looked to Kenny as though she'd just come as herself), and Stan had really used his imagination and come as an American footballer. So far, there was no sign of Kyle or the fatass.

Kenny was so lost in his thoughts that he was completely taken by surprise when someone snuck up behind him and grabbed his butt. He span around, crook raised, and came face-to-deformed face with Freddy Krueger.

"Goddamit Cartman don't do that!"

'Freddy', who'd been about to say something truly bone chilling, was stopped in his tracks. "How'd you know?" he asked, managing to look affronted despite all the latex makeup.

"Because you always come as Freddy Krueger to scare the girls!" Kenny replied. "Newsflash – it hasn't worked since fourth grade!"

"Fuck you clown-killer!"

"Er, is he bothering you?" Craig asked, wandering over to join them.

"Oh, nice of you to show!" Kenny snapped at him. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me!"

"I was just saying hey to my friends, that's all!" Craig said, in the tone of someone who's not quite sure what they're supposed to have done wrong.

Kenny ignored him and took a sip of punch. Cartman snickered.

"Guess what I did!" he said enthusiastically.

"I really don't wanna know!" Kenny replied wearily.

Cartman chuckled again and produced an empty vodka bottle from inside his long brown overcoat.

"I put it in the punch!" he said, at the others' quizzical looks. "Good thing I did, too. That stuff tastes like piss!"

"How did you even sneak that in?" Craig asked. "Garrison and Mackey were confiscating alcohol at the door!"

"I put it up my ass!" Cartman said proudly. "Lucky they're not doing strip searches this year! I got a couple more bottles up there too, if we need them!" He grimaced suddenly, and shifted uncomfortably.

Craig stared at him, and then down at his punch. "So, I'm drinking vodka that's been up your ass?" he said slowly.

"Yeah. Neat, huh?"

"Dude, _weak_!" Craig muttered to himself. He glanced around the room, looking for anyone or anything to take his mind off whatever else might be inside Cartman's arse, until eventually his eyes alighted on someone standing nervously in the doorway. "Oh my god, is that Kyle?"

"Hey guys." Kyle grinned at them. His tongue stud had been successfully removed but his tongue was still slightly swollen, which had left him with a clear lisp.

Kenny looked him up and down with interest. Kyle was wearing a green 'MC Dredel' T-shirt and faded blue jeans. The black streaks were gone from his red hair, which was already beginning to regain its former frizziness.

"Dude, what gives?" Kenny asked him, as Stan joined them.

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked nonchalantly.

"We thought you were a committed Goth, Ky!" Stan said. "What happened? Henrietta give you your soul back?"

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to say this," Kyle said reluctantly. He sighed. "You guys were right," he said through gritted teeth. "I was never cut out to be a Goth. I guess I wanted to be more than just boring old Kyle."

"You're not boring!" Kenny said soothingly. "Not all the time, anyway!"

"So what changed your mind?" Stan asked.

"Lying on a hospital bed while some over dramatic doctor tries to remove your tongue stud really makes you re-think your priorities!" Kyle said with a grimace. "I never really enjoyed being a Goth anyway. All they ever do is sit around listening to that crappy music! I was bored stiff most of the time!"

"How'd Henrietta take it?" Stan asked.

"She didn't really seem to care!" Kyle replied. "She just shrugged when I broke it off!"

"Well, its good to have you back, dude!" Stan said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Its good to be back, Shhhtan!" Kyle said, his lisp clearly evident as he struggled over the word 'Stan'.

Cartman, who'd been unusually quiet thoughout the whole conversation, grinned. "Hey Kahl, say Sufferin' Suckatash!"

"Shut up fatboy!"

As Kyle, Craig and Cartman went to get more punch, Stan took Kenny's arm and led him in the opposite direction. They stood at the edge of the dancefloor, watching various fancy-dress couples dancing together, one of which was the male GaGa and an unknowing Indiana Jones.

"Dude, what's up?" Kenny asked, trying to draw Stan's attention away from the dancefloor horrors. "Stan?"

"Oh, yeah." Stan dragged his eyes back to his friend. "You know Butters and Wendy are here, right?"

Kenny groaned. "Not this again! Look, I am not doing it, okay?"

"Please dude! I'm desperate!"

Kenny rolled his eyes. "Yes, you are!"

Stan looked across to where Wendy and Butters stood in a corner, drinking punch and talking. Butters handed Wendy his drink and headed out of the hall, probably for the toilet.

"Please Ken, I am begging you, just do this one thing for me and I will never ask you to do anything else, ever again!" Stan pleaded.

Kenny stared into Stan's wide blue eyes and felt his resolve beginning to melt. He suddenly understood what the girls meant when they said that Stan had the most gorgeous eyes out of any boy in the school. As a boy, it wouldn't have affected him, but as a girl, he'd felt like he'd do anything for those baby blues.

"All right, fine!" he grumbled. "But next time we're in some crazy, life threatening situation, I am gonna remind you of what you just said!"

"Kenny McCormick, you are a total legend!"

Kenny harrumphed, and without another word, followed Butters out of the hall.

_Okay, then. Here goes nothing._

**Hope you enjoyed it, as always, please R n R!**** By the way, I'm not being intentionally mean to Craig, I love him, I just really hate clowns! Freaky damn bastards!**

**Chapter 15 up soon…**


	15. Chapter 15

**Girl Trouble**

**I'm sorry I haven't updated quicker, but I've been rather distracted by a little ol' football tournament going on in South Africa (damn you Germany!), so this chapter might be a little all over the place because I've only been writing in dribs and drabs. Anyway, thanks for your patience, and hope you enjoy it!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Chapter 15**

"Butters!"

The blond boy turned and smiled, wiping his hands conspicuously on his black pinstriped suit jacket.

"Oh, hey there Annie!" he said with the usual enthusiasm. "Nice costume!"

"Yeah, thanks! Yours is good too!" Behind Butters, Stan slipped into the corridor and retreated into a suitably dark corner. "Er…" Kenny's voice trailed off and he gave Butters an embarrassed smile.

"A-Are you okay, Annie?"

"Yeah, I just – I…"_ I've never chatted up a guy before, _Kenny thought.At a total loss as to what to say next, he glanced helplessly at Stan, who made an impatient gesture. "I-I just wanted to say that, uh…" He frowned, searching his blank mind for a way to finish the sentence, "you, ah, your…your costume is…awesome! Is that a real moustache?" Kenny grinned in relief at getting a half-coherent sentence out. In his corner, Stan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Nah, I did it with a marker pen!" Butters replied. "I just hope it comes off otherwise my parents'll ground me!"

"Right, yeah!" Kenny said, nodding like a toy dog in a car window. His brain had done a runner and his palms were becoming sweaty, like they always did when he was nervous._ Oh come on, this is Butters! What the hell is wrong with me? Normally, I could turn a lesbian straight._

"Was there something else? Only I should get back to Wendy," Butters said. Behind him, Kenny could see Stan going mad in sign language.

"Uh, there was something, yeah," he said, scrunching his face up in thought. "You and Wendy – how's that working out for ya?"

"Oh, well, you know," Butters said quietly. He gazed at the floor for a few seconds, and then looked up at Kenny. "I should really be getting back." He half turned.

"No, I don't know!" Kenny said, grabbing his arm. "Why don't you explain it?"

"Um, I'm not really comfortable with…I mean, I don't even really know you!" he said, avoiding Kenny's eyes.

Kenny cursed himself silently for what he was about to say next. "Oh I think we can do something to change that!" he said as seductively as he could manage. _Goddamit, I hate myself right now._

Butters looked up at him, shocked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe we should get to know each other a little better!" Kenny said, slipping an arm around Butters' neck. _Whaddaya think I'm saying, you dumb bastard?_

He shut his eyes and slowly leant in towards a stunned Butters. _Jesus Christ, I'm gonna kiss another guy! Oh god, think of someone, anyone! Megan Fox…Jen Aniston…Marjorine…MARJORINE! Jesus Christ monkeyballs! What the hell am I doing?_

With those crazed thoughts banging around inside his head like dodge-ems, Kenny puckered his lips. Every fibre in his body told him to pull away, but he ignored it. The sooner it was over, the sooner he could go and wash his mouth out and get back to the party. And, more importantly, he wouldn't have to face an enraged Stan afterwards.

Kenny crushed his lips forcibly onto Butters'. He was surprised at how rough they felt and even more surprised when he found he was being gently forced backwards. He opened his eyes. Butters had put his hand over his – Kenny's – mouth. They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm sorry Annie," Butters said eventually. "I'm sure you're a nice person, but I'm with someone and it wouldn't be right."

Kenny tried to say something, but his voice was muffled by the hand.

"No, no, don't apologise! It's not your fault!" Butters said. "I've obviously led you on somehow, and for that I'm sorry. I only hope you can understand. Now let's get back to our dates and try and forget this ever happened." Kenny glared at him and mumbled something. "Sorry, you were trying to say something?" He removed his hand.

"Yeah. I was saying: get your goddamn hand off of my mouth!"

"Oh." Butters looked a little hurt. "There's no need to get tetchy!"

"What? No-one's getting tetchy!"

Butters frowned. "Annie, just because I didn't want to, uh, do anything with you doesn't mean we can't still be friends, right?" Kenny didn't reply, so Butters ploughed on: "Look, I know you obviously find me irresistible because I'm with Wendy and I'm popular now, but you have to fight it! There can never be anything between us! Not tonight, anyway!"

Kenny raised an eyebrow, but chose to ignore the last strange remark. In his experience, Butters never really made much sense at the best of times. He took a deep breath. The boy had unwittingly given him an opening, and he had to take it. _I really, really hate you right now, Stan Marsh!_

"You're right!" he blurted out. "I do find you attractive! Look at you, all popular and…stuff! I can't help myself!"

He grabbed Butters and pulled him close. Butters struggled against his iron grip, amazed at the girl's strength.

"Annie, please stop!" he shouted. He looked desperately down the corridor. "Help! Sexual harassment!"

"Hold still dammit!" Kenny muttered, trying to get his victim into a position where he could plant the fateful kiss. In the corner, Stan fumbled with his phone. Kenny glanced quickly at him, then twisted the struggling Butters round towards Stan's corner. _Come on Stan, for fucks sake! There ain't gonna be a re-take!_

Stan raised the phone and Kenny leaned in towards the squirming Butters. Just as he thought that maybe, just maybe Stan's stupid plan was actually going to work, the door opened.

"I'll be back in a minute, Bebe!" Wendy was saying. "I'm just gonna go check on Butters. He hasn't come back yet."

"He's probably fallen down the toilet or something!" they heard Bebe reply sarcastically.

Wendy chuckled, turned around and froze as she took in the sight before her – her friend, Annie, with her arms wrapped tightly around Butters' neck. Butters, for his part, looked as though he was struggling to breathe.

"What the hell?" She pushed the door open wider.

"Oof!"

"Stan? What the…"

Stan, holding his side where the door handle had hit him, smiled weakly. "I can explain!"

Wendy turned back to Kenny and Butters, frowning. "Explain what? Annie? Butters?"

"It was all his idea!" Kenny blurted out, nodding at Stan.

"Oh thanks a lot dude!"

Wendy turned back to Stan, her look quizzical, then her eyes fell on the phone that he was hurriedly trying to put back into his pocket. She looked at him, and then to Kenny and Butters and back to Stan again as the scales fell from her eyes.

"You are pathetic!" she shouted. "Is there nothing you won't stoop to? And as for you…" she turned her ire on Kenny, "you're supposed to be my friend!"

"Am I?" Kenny shouted back. "That's rich, considering you haven't spoken to me in weeks!"

Wendy looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "And you know why that is, Annie? Because you keep hanging out with _him_, even after what he did to me!" She glared at Stan. "It doesn't matter now, anyway," she continued. "You both wasted your time."

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked.

"Butters and I already broke up," Wendy replied. She was starting to enjoy herself. "Tonight was just a convenience date, really."

"WHAT!" Kenny and Stan shouted in unison. They looked at each other in horror.

It was at that point that the door opened again and Cartman entered, almost dancing with excitement. Stan groaned as the door slammed into him again.

"Oh my god, you guys, you've got to go back in there! It is so awesome!" Cartman said earnestly. "I put more vodka in the punch and Garrison and Mackey have been drinking it and – "he paused as the situation in front of him caught his attention. "What? What'd I miss?" he asked, looking from one to the other and back again.

"Nothing," Wendy said hotly. "You didn't miss anything. I'm going home. Suddenly I'm not in the party mood any more."

She glared at Stan and stalked off down the corridor towards the front doors. Stan sighed and glanced at the ceiling, as though looking for divine intervention, then jogged after her.

"Wendy, wait! Come on…"

Kenny shook his head as he watched him leave. "That guy will never learn."

"So, uh, what happens now, Annie?" Butters asked as he kicked at a spot on the floor.

"What happens is you get the hell away from me before I kick your puny little ass."

"Oh," Butters said, nodding. "All right then." He gave Kenny and Cartman a weak little smile and headed back into the party.

"Dude, what did happen?" Cartman asked.

Kenny shook his head. "I'll tell you later. Right now I need a drink. A very big, alcoholic drink!"

"Then you definitely need to go get some punch!" Cartman said, grinning evilly. "You should see what it's done to Garrison and Mackey!"

Kenny chuckled, and he and Cartman headed back in. It took his eyes a few seconds to re-adjust to the dim lighting, but when they had, he was greeted by a very unwelcome sight.

"You see that!" Cartman said. "Look at the state of 'em!" He pointed towards Mr Garrison and Mr Mackey, his hand shaking with laughter.

Mr Garrison was slumped in a corner, a strange lopsided grin on his face. An empty glass lay next to him. The spiked punch had had completely the opposite effect on Mr Mackey. He was on the dancefloor, attempting to do the Macarena. His large head lolled around in complete contrast to his weird skinny body, which was moving furiously in an attempt to keep in time to the music. A few students stood on the edge of the dancefloor, filming him on their phones.

But Kenny wasn't looking at his inebriated teachers. "I don't believe it!" he murmured.

His eyes were fixed on Craig, who had his tongue down another girl's throat. Kenny squinted. It was Powder, he was sure of it.

"Look at him, the freak!" Cartman said, still looking at Mackey. "Hey, where you going?"

Kenny was crossing the hall like a pink gingham clad heat seeking missile, heading straight for Craig. Unfortunately, his route took him across the dancefloor and straight into Mr Mackey.

"Heeeey Macarena m'kay!"

"Move!" Kenny shoved him out of the way. Mackey's momentum carried him backwards into a table on which the food and punch stood. It crashed to the floor, smashing the punchbowl and scattering the food. Everyone groaned.

"Man, Wendy's gonna kill you!" someone shouted.

Kenny ignored this and walked right up to Craig, who upon hearing the table fall over, had turned around. He stared at Kenny, ashen faced. Powder made an embarrassed little noise and moved away quickly. Kenny stared at Craig, who appeared to be shrinking by the second.

"Dude, what the hell?" he shouted.

"I-I'm sorry, okay!" Craig babbled nervously. "It was just I'd had a coupla drinks and, and you weren't around and I figured you were mad at me anyway so – "

"So you thought you could kiss another girl?"

"No!" Craig cried. "I went and got you a drink, but you weren't around so I was standing there like a total dork, and Powder came up to me and said hey and we started talking and then…you were here." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay, but you'd disappeared. What was I supposed to do?"

"How about _not _kiss another girl, Craig!"

Craig snorted. "Yeah well, at least she hasn't acted like a bitch to me all night, Annie! I can't believe I actually thought I was gonna get somewhere with you!"

He exchanged glances with Token, who said: "Told ya!"

Kenny looked at them both, confused. "What?"

"Sweetheart, Craig only asked you out because he thought you'd put out," Token said. "I said you wouldn't."

"I guess I owe you ten bucks," Craig said.

"Pay me whenever."

"What! Y-you made a _bet_ on me!" Kenny cried. Tears of humiliation welled in his eyes. "Why would you do that? Its so…mean!"

"Welcome to 21st century dating, honey!" Token said.

Kenny took one more look at both of them and then ran from the hall, tears spilling down his cheeks. He ran out of the school and into the car park, which was dark and quiet. He sat down on a wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Kenny?"

He looked up as Kyle and Cartman approached him. Kyle sat down next to him while Cartman stood and stared at the snow, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

"You okay, dude?" Kyle asked after a short pause in which Kenny tried to mop up his tear-sodden face.

"How could they do that to me?" he asked in a strained voice. "Its just so cruel."

"Look, I'm not being funny, but you used to do that kind of thing all the time when you were a boy," Kyle said.

"Yeah, I know," Kenny said quietly. "I used to think it was funny when the girls found out and got upset. Now, thinking about it, it makes me feel ashamed. I mean, most of those girls really liked me and I…I hurt them and then laughed in their face. What kind of person does that make me?"

"A man-whore?" Cartman suggested. Kyle kicked him on the ankle.

Kenny shook his head. He was beginning to feel a little dizzy. "It was wrong. They had feelings too. I guess I just never thought about it like that before." He got uncertainly to his feet and blinked. The world was starting to spin before his eyes.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" Kyle asked, grabbing his unsteady friend.

"Yeah, I…damn, what did you put in that punch, Cartman?" Kenny asked, as his legs gave way. He shut his eyes as the dizziness overtook him.

Somewhere in the distance, he heard Kyle shout: "Don't just stand there, asshole! Go get some help!"

Just before he passed out, Kenny heard another voice. This one, however, was deep inside his subconscious.

"Congratulations. Lesson learnt."

**Well that's nearly it, folks, only one more chapter to go! Please review, and I promise not to be so long with the last chapter!**

**Chapter 16 up soon…**


	16. Chapter 16

**Girl Trouble**

**Yeah, I know it's been a while, but I'm not dead, just extremely busy. Thanks for your patience! Here's the last chapter…**

**Chapter 16**

Walter Koenig poured himself a coffee, blowing out his big red cheeks in frustration. Business was slower than usual tonight. He looked at the clock - only eight more hours of his shift to go. Walter had a surreptitious look around and then, after establishing that the coast was clear, took out a hip flask from his overalls and poured some of the contents into his coffee. He walked to his desk, slumped down in the small uncomfortable chair and picked up a magazine.

Walter had seen an awful lot in his twenty years working at the Park County Mortuary. He'd seen bodies that had been blown apart by a mechanised Barbra Streisand, and others that had been half eaten by giant guinea pigs. However, even Walter was surprised when one of the corpses in The Fridge started talking to him.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Please god, let there be someone there!"

Walter's head snapped up and he looked around. There was no-one else there.

"Hello?" he called gruffly. "Lenny, if that's you, it ain't funny, okay?"

There was a pause and then the voice cried out again, more plaintively this time:

"Look, if anyone can hear me, I'm stuck in here! I need help!"

_So do I_, Walter thought. He looked accusingly at his coffee. He hadn't put that much brandy in, had he? He was startled by a loud banging from The Fridge, which was basically a giant filing cabinet, but instead of files it held dead people. It almost sounded like one of the corpses was kicking on its door.

"Will somebody please help me? It's fucking freezing in here!"

Walter got up slowly and walked over to The Fridge. The banging seemed to be coming from one of the drawers in the middle row – the drawer that had a 'Reserved' sticker on it. He held his breath and pulled it open.

A skinny, naked teenage boy sat up, shaking. He had a shock of blond hair and a surprised expression. The smell of embalming fluid filled the room as he stretched his frozen limbs.

"T-T-Th-thanks dude," he said through chattering teeth.

Walter nodded mutely. He wasn't used to corpses talking to him (unless he'd hit the brandy particularly hard), but he was even less used to them getting up and walking around, as this one was doing. He groped around madly behind him and found a chair.

"Uh, you don't have that Pinkeye thing, do you?" he asked nervously.

The corpse looked at him in surprise. "No." As Walter continued to gaze at him, unconvinced, he added: "Look, my eyes aren't red and puffy, and I don't want to eat your brains. I actually fancy a burrito."

Relieved, Walter relaxed his grip on the chair. The shivering boy, meanwhile, knelt down and untied the name-tag attached to his big toe. Walter tried to get a look at the name – McCormand? McCordick was it? – but found his attention caught by three words written in large red ink: DO NOT INCINERATE.

"I'm Kenny, by the way," the boy said helpfully. Walter nodded, as though chatting to corpses was something he did every day. He watched as Kenny stood up slowly, a look of realisation dawning on his deathly pale face. "Wait, I'm Kenny!" he said, looking down at himself as though checking to make sure. "I'm Kenny! Dude, I'm _Kenny_!" He grabbed Walter's shoulders and made as if to hug him, but changed his mind when the man made another grab for the chair.

"This is so awesome! Thank you!" Kenny shouted at the ceiling. "And thank you for letting me out!" he said to Walter. He turned towards the door, then turned back as another thought struck him. "Wait, who the hell are you? And where the hell am I? This isn't South Park Morgue – this place is clean!"

"Yeah, this is Park County Mortuary," Walter explained. "There was a bus crash in South Park last night which filled up their morgue, so I guess you were transferred here."

Kenny looked thoughtful. "Oh. Well thanks for all your help anyway, whatever-your-name-is. I gotta go; I gotta tell everyone that I'm back!"

He left the room quickly, almost skipping with happiness. As soon as he'd gone, Walter sat down heavily, mopping his brow with an old hankerchief. _I'm too old for this shit_, he thought, as the tension drained from his body. Just as he began to relax however, he was startled by a scream from somewhere down the corridor, followed by the sound of something heavy smashing on the floor. He jumped to his feet, rattled. A few seconds later, Kenny walked back into the room looking sheepish.

"Er, you don't know where my clothes are, do you?"

Stan rolled over in bed and groaned. He looked at his watch (11.00) and buried his head in the pillow. Last night had been a disaster, a complete and utter disaster. He'd be lucky if Wendy ever spoke to him again.

He'd tried his best to apologise to her after she'd stormed out of the party. He'd followed her all the way home, but to no avail. She'd shouted and sworn at him for the first few blocks and when that didn't work, she ignored him, hoping he'd take the hint and leave her alone. It was only when they got to her house and she'd threatened to call the cops that Stan had decided to give up.

He looked at his watch again: 11.05 now. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. He was probably the talk of the town, or at least his friends, after the events of last night. The thought made him want to crawl back under his duvet again. He shook his head determinedly. Oh come on, it wasn't like he'd done anything to be ashamed of, unless you counted trying to set up his ex-girlfriend's supposed boyfriend in order to win back said ex-girlfriend, who probably thought he was some kind of psycho. He groaned again. Maybe it would all blow over in a few days. Maybe.

He got up, went to the bathroom, splashed some water over his face and went downstairs. There was no-one about – his parents had probably gone shopping and Shelley had obviously spent the night with her latest boyfriend. Stan made himself some coffee and flopped on the sofa in the lounge. The silence echoed around him. There was no way he was going out today, not after what had happened last night, so there was nothing else for it. Stan flicked on his Xbox and started a new game of _Call Of Duty_, in the vain hope that killing some virtual soldiers might make him feel better.

A loud knocking at the door made him jump, and caused his character to get blown up by a grenade. He swore and threw his controller down petulantly.

"All right, I'm coming!" he called, as the insistent knocking continued. It sounded like someone was literally trying to knock the door off its hinges. He threw it open, glaring.

Kenny McCormick stood on the doorstep, grinning like a loon. "Wassup dude!"

"Kenny!" Stan cried, his face breaking into a grin at the sight of his friend. "What happened? When did you, uh, get back?"

"I got sent back last night," Kenny said. "I guess I learnt my lesson in the end. Turns out I'm a total jackass – but then you knew that already, didn't you!" He fell about laughing and then stood up slowly, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry! It's the embalming fluid; it always goes straight to my head!"

Stan smiled wanly. "It's good to have you back, dude."

"What's up, Stan?" Kenny asked, frowning. "I thought you'd be a little more pleased to see me."

"No I am, it's just…" he paused, licking his lips. "You do remember what happened last night, don't you?"

"How could I forget!" Kenny said sardonically. "You made me kiss Butters! I'm gonna be having nightmares for weeks!"

"I bet everyone knows it was a set-up by now!" Stan said. "I bet the whole town's talking about me and saying what a loser I am!"

"Get over yourself, Stan!" Kenny said, rolling his eyes. "People are more likely to be talking about me, not you. Well, Annie, at least."

Stan stared at him, confused. "Huh?"

He listened while Kenny filled him in on what had happened after he'd left. As he went back over what had happened, Kenny began to feel increasingly guilty. Here he was, celebrating having his life back, but what had he done to Annie's? It would be her that everyone would be talking about, her that would be the butt of all the jokes, especially after his behaviour in her body over the past few weeks. By the time he'd finished his story, all the elation that he'd been feeling had gone.

"Wow, I didn't realise Craig could be such a bastard!" Stan said, his voice breaking into Kenny's thoughts.

"Hmm. Listen Stan, I gotta go; there's something I've got to do. Maybe we could meet up later, or something?"

"Uh yeah, sure," Stan said, bemused by Kenny's sudden change in mood. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah." He turned and walked down the driveway, deep in thought.

Stan shrugged, shut the door and went back into the lounge. He had barely picked up his controller when there was another knock at the door.

"Goddamit Kenny, I am not giving you a ride!" he said crossly as he got up to answer it. But the person at the door wasn't Kenny. In fact, it was the last person he was expecting.

"Wendy!"

"Hi Stan!" she said, smiling shyly.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

Wendy swallowed slowly. "I think we need to talk."

Kenny stood at the end of the driveway, feeling incredibly stupid. What was wrong with him? This had been his home for the past few weeks after all. He'd almost gotten used to living in a house that didn't have puke stains on the carpet and mould growing on the walls, but it wasn't _his _home. Not any more. He sighed and began to turn away, but turned back determinedly, berating himself for being a pussy. It had to be done; he had to see her, even if it was just to find out if she could remember anything. He walked reluctantly up the drive and rang the doorbell. He kicked his heels against the ground, waiting. After a few minutes, the door opened and Annie peered out.

"Er, hi!" she said, clearly confused as to why a boy she barely knew was standing on her doorstep.

"Hi!" Kenny said awkwardly. He kicked his heels again and swallowed. _It's not too late to turn around and run y'know_. "How are you?" he asked, ignoring the dissenting voice in his head.

"I'm okay, I guess," Annie said, scratching behind her ear. Kenny looked her up and down. It was weird seeing her standing there in front of him, when the only time he'd been able to look at her before was when he was in front of a mirror. It was like looking at the back of his own head. "Why are you here?" she asked suddenly. "Did, um, did something happen between us?"

Kenny squirmed. "It depends on what you mean," he said.

"I mean, did anything happen? Did we kiss, or," she looked embarrassed, "sleep together? Help me out here, please! I don't remember anything about last night – or the last few weeks for that matter."

Kenny nearly sagged under the wave of relief that hit him. "Really?"

"No. The last thing I remember was…" she paused and frowned, "it was one night about a week after Clyde's party and I remember having a fight with my dad about homework or something, and I was upset so I went to bed early, but the next thing I know I wake up in this weird gingham dress, my mom's mad at me for some reason, and then I find out that three weeks have gone past! What the hell happened to me Kenny? You don't just wake up one day and find out you've lost three weeks of your life!"

"I dunno Annie!" Kenny said, wilting under the force of her stare. "This is South Park! Stuff like that just kinda happens. That's why our town motto is 'Weird shit happens'."

"But it doesn't happen to _me_!" Annie protested. "I'm normal, I have a normal life! Or at least I did!" She sighed and looked away. "Everyone keeps telling me how weird I've been acting lately, and asking what the problem is but how am I supposed to know? I don't remember any of it."

Kenny bit his lip. He didn't want to tell her the truth, but he couldn't stand the thought of her torturing herself, either.

"Look, I think I might know what happened," he said. He paused, swallowed and went on: "Last night was the Christmas party. You were my date. As we were leaving you slipped on some ice and hit your head on the sidewalk. You were unconscious for a few minutes, but you said afterwards that you were okay. I guess it was more serious than we thought."

Kenny crossed his fingers behind his back and waited as Annie considered his story.

"I guess that makes sense…" she said slowly, not sounding entirely sure. She looked up at him, open-mouthed, as something struck her. "Wait a second! I went with _you_?"

"Uh, yeah."

"No offence, but aren't you kind of a man-whore?"

Kenny chuckled. "I was. Let's just say I've learnt a few lessons since then!"

"O-kay." Annie frowned. He smiled at her and she blushed. "Thanks for coming to see if I was okay. It means a lot."

Now it was Kenny's turn to blush. "No problem." He paused and licked his lips. He'd never felt so nervous around a girl before. "Wanna come to Shakey's with me?" he blurted out suddenly. "I kinda feel like I owe it to you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"No, I really, really do."

Annie looked down at her plain white T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. "Okay then. Just give me ten minutes to get ready."

Kenny grinned. He'd been back barely an hour, and he already had a date. That must be a record, even for him. His grin faded slightly as he suddenly remembered that he hadn't been home – his family didn't know he was back yet. Not that they'd care, but still…

"Annie, can we make it half an hour? There's somewhere I gotta go first."

Wendy perched uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, grimacing with distaste at the sight of the poor man on Stan's video game who had evidently just been blown to bits. Stan was in the kitchen making her a coffee. She didn't really want one, but it gave her a chance to consider what she was going to say while he was out of the room.

"Stan, why do you have to play that horrible game?" she asked as he came back in. He huffed out a frustrated sigh and flicked the TV off. As soon as she saw his reaction, she wished she hadn't said anything. _Come on girl. You didn't come here to start an argument._

"Better?" he asked, his voice slightly prickly.

Wendy nodded. She cradled her coffee carefully, allowing the warmth to fill her hands. Stan sat down next to her.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked after a while. "I thought you said everything you needed to say last night."

"I think maybe I overreacted a little," she said slowly. "I came to apologise. I was…wrong."

Stan was so surprised he nearly spilt his drink. Hearing Wendy Testaburger admit she was wrong was like seeing Hailey's comet: it didn't happen very often, so when it did, you made the most of it. He gazed at her. She was looking away from him to hide the blush creeping over her face.

"You…what?" he asked.

"I said I was wrong. I'm sorry," she said through gritted teeth. Her tone suggested that if he thought he could get her to say to it for a third time, he was sadly mistaken.

Stan resisted the urge to push it any further. "Why the change of heart?" he asked.

Wendy shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn't sleep last night, I was too busy going over everything in my head and I realised that I haven't been happy since we split up – even though that was all your fault."

Stan bit his lip. There was no point going over old ground. If Wendy didn't believe him now, she never would.

"Anyway, the whole thing with Butters, that was a total mistake!" she continued. "It wasn't even a rebound thing! I was so mad at you…" she stopped and sighed. "I still can't believe you did what you did though. Setting Butters up like that? At first it made me angry, but then the more I thought about it, I started to feel flattered. No-one's ever done anything like that for me Stan. You must really care about me."

"Yeah, I do," Stan said quietly.

"And I care about you," Wendy said. She blushed again.

Stan turned to face her. "So…"

"So I guess we could try again, I mean, if you wanted to – "

Stan cut her off with a kiss. "Yes, I want to."

"Good." Wendy put her coffee down, slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for another, longer kiss. When they finally came up for air she kicked her shoes off and snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Oh, I nearly forgot, I saw Kenny when I arrived. I haven't seen him for ages! Has he been in Hell all this time?"

Stan half smiled. "Yeah, I think he sorta has."

Kenny headed back out into the street, his heart swelling as he thought about Annie. He was alive and he had a date! He grinned to himself. Not even his useless family could ruin his mood. Sure, they'd been glad to see him, but that had soon descended into the usual drunken argument. He rubbed the side of his face where Kevin had punched him. Home sweet home.

He stepped into the road and jumped back abruptly as a car shot past, millimetres from taking him out. He breathed deeply as thoughts of Annie filled his head. No, not today. He had way too much to live for.

**Okay, so I know I said that this was the final chapter, and in a way it is, but I'm unsure whether to do an ****epilogue with Kyle and Cartman, since they didn't get in this chapter. I'm not sure whether the story needs it though, so if you guys could let me know what you think, that would be great. Anyway, please read and review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Girl Trouble**

**Okay, so I decided to go with the epilogue after all****. Thanks for John-SP150 for your comments in the previous review!**

**I don't own South Park.**

**Epilogue**

Cartman carefully lit the campfire and reached for a beer from one of the six-packs sitting beside him. He popped open the bottle, took a swig and looked at his watch. They should be here by now. Twelve o'clock at Stark's Pond, that's what they'd agreed. Cartman couldn't stand tardiness, especially when there was drinking to be done. He turned at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow behind him.

"Hey dude." Kyle sat down next to him.

"Hey." Cartman looked behind him expectantly. "Where are the others?"

"They're not coming," Kyle replied. "Good news though – Kenny's back in his own body! I saw him on the way here."

"So where is he?"

"He's got a date!"

"What!" Cartman almost shouted. "He comes back from the dead and gets himself a fucking _date_! The fuck is that about?"

"I dunno, but that's what he's doing," Kyle said, picking at some dead grass underneath the snow.

"What's Stan's excuse?"

"I think him and Wendy might be back on."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I texted him to tell him to meet us, but he didn't reply so I went round there to drag his ass out of bed, and Wendy's car was there." Kyle chuckled. "I didn't think he'd want me interrupting, so I left."

"You really think they're back together?" Cartman asked, staring at the fire.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough." He glanced at Cartman. "Can I have a beer please?"

"What beer?" Cartman asked, shifting a little to his left.

"The beer you're trying to hide from me!" Kyle said, as he tried to peer around Cartman's considerable bulk to the two six-packs.

"Nope. Don't know what you're talking about."

"You've got a beer in your hand, Cartman!"

Cartman looked down at his hand. "Goddamit!" He passed Kyle a beer, which his friend snatched triumphantly. Cartman hated having to share anything with Kyle. Even sharing oxygen with the Jew was too much for him.

The two boys sat quietly for a while, drinking and gazing at the fire, both lost in their own thoughts and their mutual resentment. They were on their third beer before Kyle broke the silence.

"Dude, I am so over girls!"

Cartman looked across at him. Kyle, who had obviously never heard of the phrase 'Never drink on an empty stomach', was beginning to look a little woozy.

"Ain't that the truth. They're all bitches! We don't need them!"

"Yeah. I am so done with them!" Kyle said, warming to his theme. "In fact, I'm going to make a promise!" He raised his beer ceremoniously. "I promise never to let any of those evil, mani…manapul…_devious_, that's good, devious, uh, what are they called…?"

"Girls?" Cartman put in helpfully.

"Yeah, _girls_ ever come between me and my friends ever again! Are you in, Cartman?"

"Hell yeah!" They clinked their bottles together. "Yep, and if any girl tries it, I'll grab her and say: 'I ain't takin' no more of your crap ho! You try it again, and I'll slap you round the face!'" he said, his accent more Deep South than gangsta.

"Yeah!" Kyle said, laughing. He frowned. "Well maybe not slap her round the face, y'know, th-that isn't good."

Cartman snorted. "Whatever, Kahl."

The boys stretched themselves out in front of the fire. Maybe it was just the drink, but they were actually starting to enjoy each others' company. Cartman couldn't remember a time when they had laughed and joked so much. Normally, if they had to spend any amount of time alone together, they'd be ready to kill each other after five minutes. Now he was sat there laughing at Kyle's jokes. To him, it felt as if the universe was suddenly out of alignment.

They had just cracked open their fourth beers when they were interrupted by a raised, angry female voice. Both boys strained to hear.

"Is that Bebe?" Kyle asked.

"Ssshh!"

"I don't care if you've got a hangover, Token! You promised you'd take me to the mall!" Bebe shouted into her phone. She walked past the pond, completely oblivious to the two boys watching her. She was wearing a denim mini-skirt that was so short she was in danger of being arrested for indecent exposure, a black leather jacket and a tight yellow T-shirt.

Cartman and Kyle stared at her long legs, which were bare despite the freezing weather.

"You know that my car's at the garage being fixed!" Bebe said hopelessly. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Whatever Token said obviously didn't help, because she made a frustrated noise and hung up on him.

"Poor Bebe!" Cartman said. "Maybe we should try and help!"

"Yes, we should!" Kyle said, still transfixed by her legs.

They got up and started to go after her. They had just reached the pavement when Kyle suddenly stopped.

"Dude, the fire! We can't just leave it! And what about the beer?"

"Shit!" Cartman turned, and, assuming Kyle was behind him, jogged back to their spot.

"Okay Kahl, you grab the beer and I'll – "

He turned around. Kyle was halfway up the street, talking to Bebe.

Cartman swore loudly. He threw some snow on the campfire, grabbed what was left of the beer and took off after him.

"Kahl! You get back here you filthy fucking Jew!" he shouted as Kyle disappeared into the next street with Bebe.

The universe heaved a sigh of relief as it slid back into alignment. Normality restored.

**Well that definitely is it, promise! Hope you've enjoyed reading the story (hopefully there weren't too many plot-holes) and please review one last time!**


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